


Redemption

by salmon_dixon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Merle Dixon Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-06-02 02:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salmon_dixon/pseuds/salmon_dixon
Summary: Merle goes off on his suicide run to kill the Governor, but Daryl and Rick notice sooner that he’s gone and Daryl brings Rick with him. They find Merle gravely injured and get him back to the prison where Hershel brings Merle back from the brink of death. Merle only just survives and spends nearly a week unconscious and near death. Expecting to have died, Merle wakes up and is surprised when the others warm to him, showing him care and affection he's not used to, making him want to redeem himself and become a part of their family.





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> So, I said I wouldn't be writing a long fic again for a while, but... oops! :)  
> This one is going to be a pretty long one, so strap in!  
> Enjoy :)

Daryl was distracted, walking in circles as he strolled around the courtyard outside, looking around and thinking of ways that they could fortify the area as he also mulled over the conversation he’d had with Merle just a few hours prior. Merle had shrugged his hand off his shoulder, making it clear that he was uncomfortable and wanted to be alone, and so Daryl had walked away to give him space, seeking out the fresh air of outside, needing time to think.

He looked up, broken from his thoughts as Rick approached him swiftly, a little out of breath.

“It’s off,” Rick said as he came closer, “we’ll take our chances.”

Something lifted in Daryl’s chest at Rick’s change of heart in essentially handing Michonne over to a terrible, slow death, and that the other man, in doing so, was taking mercy on his brother’s already misguided conscience. Merle had obviously been very adverse to the idea of handing Michonne over, had found it extremely unfair and hypocritical that they were going to essentially be doing the exact same thing he had done with Glenn and Maggie and have him do all the dirty work for them.

“I’m not saying it was the wrong call, but this is definitely the right one,” Daryl said, before he noticed Rick’s nervous demeanour and quickly eyed him up and down before asking, “what’s wrong?”

Rick sighed heavily and dread started to settle in Daryl’s stomach.

“I can’t find Merle or Michonne,” Rick said, fidgeting and avoiding his eyes nervously, confirming Daryl’s fears, “they’ve gone.”

“Come on” Daryl said, taking off at a run as he led Rick to where he’d last seen Merle, in the basement workshop.

They burst into the room and Daryl’s worry ramped up at finding it empty and silent; it was rarely a good sign when Merle was quiet.

“He was in here,” he said as he reached where they’d last stood together, where he’d told Merle that he just wanted his brother back and Merle had shrugged him off with a shaky breath and a ‘get out of here, man’, “said he was looking for drugs. Said a lot of things, actually…”

He stepped away from the other man and started to look around the tiny room for clues as to what Merle had been up to and where he had gone.

“Like what?” Rick asked after a few beats, taking the opposite side of the room to look around.

“Said that you were gonna change your mind,” Daryl replied before he discovered a piece of cloth on the floor and walked over to it, “here we go.”

He knelt to pick it up and inspect it, and sighed heavily at discovering a small spatter of blood on it, dropping it to the floor frustratedly, and his heart started to pound hard in his chest as he realised that Merle was gone, having snatched Michonne up and gone to meet the Governor.

“Yeah, he took her here,” Daryl said, cursing Merle internally, “they mixed it up.”

“Damn it!” Rick hissed lowly before he was continuing through to the next room, making to leave the prison, “I’m going after him.”

“You can’t track for shit” Daryl reminded him as he followed.

“Well, then the both of us should go” Rick suggested.

Daryl mulled it over for a moment, debating arguing against it and just going alone, but he rationalised that it wasn’t a good idea, and nodded his agreement before following Rick out of the room and towards the courtyard.

They made their way outside, gathering the others together on the way, and Rick told them where they were going and why, much to the others’ shock and dismay. They were horrified to learn of what Rick had planned to do but accepted that he’d changed his mind and was going to try and fix it. And so, they set out a quick plan for the others to follow if the Governor showed up, and then they were setting off on foot, Rick trailing the younger Dixon as he tracked his brother’s movements, following his trail swiftly.

They had only been walking for ten minutes before they were stumbling across Michonne, standing over a walker’s severed head, and they looked at each other upon seeing her unharmed, untethered, and with her katana. She pulled the sword out of its sheath and plunged it through the walker’s forehead, stopping it from snarling up at her as she put the beheaded walker out of its misery.

“Hey! Where’s my brother?” Daryl called over the space between them, approaching her warily and pausing as he reached her before asking a question that he dreaded the answer to, his voice going soft, “you kill him?”

She shook her head, regarding him silently, and his chest filled with burning relief before he squinted at her confusedly, looking for an answer.

“He let me go” she said calmly.

Something in Daryl’s heart swelled with pride at Merle’s decision, right as something else simultaneously tightened in worry at what exactly Merle was planning, heart sinking again as he realised that it meant Merle had probably gone off on his own to meet the Governor. Merle rarely thought about his own safety, often did things without thinking it over, especially when he was feeling worthless, and this whole situation reeked of one of his brother’s ill thought out plans. He had a feeling that Michonne had said something that’d triggered some response in Merle, and that Merle had then careened into a self-destructive plan without a second thought about the consequences.

Looking back on their conversation in the workshop Daryl realised now that Merle had been feeling vulnerable, realised now that his brother had been on the verge of tears, that he’d been opening up about his feelings on being the black sheep, about being seen as the bad guy, as “the devil” in the eyes of the group, and realised that he’d ignored Merle’s attempts to talk through his stunted feelings. Something warm and hopeful bloomed in his chest; he’d wanted all his life for Merle to open up to him, for them to be able to talk about their feelings to one another, for them to be able to bond properly. He needed to find Merle, _now_.

“Don’t let anyone come after us…” Daryl said to her lowly, and he and Rick continued past her.

Daryl broke into a sprint, knowing that they needed to hurry, running hard in the direction of the meeting point the Governor had set, and Rick followed close behind, matching the younger Dixon’s pace.

\--

They reached the meeting point in another twenty minutes, and exchanged a look, their faces going serious at the carnage they found strewn about the environment, worsening the further they walked into the compound. There were half-eaten corpses and overgorged walkers everywhere, a cacophony of upsetting sights and noises, and Daryl’s heart nearly stopped in his chest at the thought of Merle being amongst the dead; or the undead. He couldn’t fathom the thought of losing Merle, especially so soon after finding him again, but he steeled himself none the less and pressed on, Rick close behind him.

They kept a low profile as they looked around the compound, taking out the few walkers that they attracted as they went, Daryl with his crossbow and Rick with a knife, and slowly they progressed, keeping their eyes peeled for any would-be attackers in their surrounds. They passed a car with its driver’s side door open, and Daryl peered inside, immediately recognising Merle’s handiwork in hotwiring it and shaking his head at his brother’s shenanigans. They continued walking, stepping over corpses, and came into a clearing, stopping for a moment to take in the scene, recognising some of the dead men as the Governor’s soldiers, but there was still no sign of Merle, and Daryl became more and more antsy, the feeling rubbing off on Rick.

“Looks like there was a shootout… Merle must’a drawn a bunch’a walkers here with the car,” Daryl said quietly, “he must’a ambushed ‘em, picked ‘em off from a distance… or tried to at least.”

Rick nodded, lips pursed, and looked around, trying to determine where Merle may have hidden as he picked the Governor’s men off. He noticed a building off to their right, dark inside, its windows broken, the perfect vantage point over the corpses they now stood over, and gestured towards it, suggesting to Daryl that it was where Merle had hidden. Daryl seemed to agree with his theory and nodded as he set off towards the building, and Rick followed the other man as he crept around the side of one of the buildings, an old farm store.

There was a noticeable sign of a scuffle in the dirt outside the doors, boot prints and blood spatter that Daryl and Rick both recognised as signs of a beatdown, three on one, and they pursed their lips, meeting each other’s eyes, knowing that it couldn’t mean anything good. They continued, pushing the door open and creeping inside, following the path of dirt and dust that had been kicked up as the scuffle had continued inside, leaving dirt and flecks of blood all over the floor. This time it only featured two people, one being thrown about and kicked around, obviously weakened from the beatdown outside, and Daryl felt his heart sink, dreading what they’d find as they continued, and his fears were confirmed when they found Merle a couple of rooms deeper into the building.

Daryl gasped upon finding his brother slumped on the floor against the leg of a table, his head down and his body completely limp, his right arm bent awkwardly and obviously broken just below the elbow, trapped between some machinery, two newly missing fingers on his lone hand, severed raggedly at the second knuckle, leaving only bloody stumps.

“Merle!” Daryl said breathlessly, rushing towards his brother and dropping to his knees in front of him.

He dumped his crossbow to the floor in favour of cupping his brother’s face in his hands and lifting Merle’s head up gently, tilting his face up, and the two men gasped quietly as the motion revealed a litany of lacerations and bruises over his face and torso, the pallor of his skin. A bloom of red caught their eyes, drawing them southward to Merle’s chest, and their stomachs dropped upon discovering a bullet hole in the centre of Merle’s sternum.

“No… no, no, no,” Daryl breathed, breath hitching in panic, shaking his head, “Merle… no, _no_ , Merle…”

He faltered for a few moments, breathing picking up in his distress, before he was fumbling to find any sign of life, cupping Merle’s face in one hand and pressing his shaking fingers to the pulse point at Merle’s bruised throat with the other, and he held his breath, praying to a god neither he nor his brother believed in that he’d feel that flutter of life against his fingertips.

It was barely there, thrumming feebly, weakly, against Merle’s windpipe, but it was there none the less, and Daryl gave a relieved sob, turning his head to face Rick as he cupped his brother’s face in his palms and held his forehead to his chest, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs and trying not to dwell too much on the icy temperature of Merle’s skin.

“He’s alive, but his pulse is weak, n’ his skin’s gettin’ cold,” he said, “we’ve gotta get him back to the prison, now!”

Rick nodded, agreeing without hesitation, and moved closer to free Merle’s trapped arm and to help Daryl lift Merle’s dead weight as carefully as they could between them, trying to keep Merle’s chest level and to not jostle his torso. They carried Merle to the car that he had hotwired, and Rick checked it over quickly for walkers before he was helping Daryl to climb into the back seat, watching as he dragged Merle inside with him until he and Merle were stretched out along the back seat, Daryl’s back up against the opposite door, Merle’s spine flush against his chest, his hips cradled between his brother’s legs. Daryl clutched at Merle tightly, curling around his sibling protectively, the fingers of one hand seeking Merle’s pulse at his wrist as he pressed his other hand tightly over the bullet wound in his chest in an attempt to stem the flow of blood and to earn Merle a few more precious seconds.

“Go, Rick, go!” Daryl yelled, and Rick felt his heart break when their eyes met and he saw that tears were flowing down Daryl’s face.

Rick closed the back door with a thud and wrenched the driver’s door open, climbed in and set off, his foot pressed hard on the accelerator, pressing it flush against the floor and making the wheels kick up dirt. He set himself to focussing on the road and getting back to the prison as quickly as he could, his knuckles aching with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He tried and failed to ignore the fact that his throat was painfully tight, that his eyes were burning with unshed tears as he listened to Daryl sobbing quietly in the back seat, whimpering into his brother’s ear as Merle fought for breath, fought for his life, in his baby brother’s arms.

“Please, Merle… just hold on…” Daryl wept, begging his brother with everything in him, “please, Merle…”


	2. Resuscitation

They tore up the road leading to the prison at speed, and Rick hoped that the others were ready to receive them, that they were ready to open the gate and let them in as quickly as possible. A matter of seconds could mean life or death with the wound Merle had. Blessedly, he could see that Maggie and Glenn were at the gate, and began honking wildly and yelling out the window, hoping that they would realise that it was him and that they’d open the gate.

Thankfully they opened it after only a few seconds of hesitation, springing into action when Michonne yelled that it was safe, recognising the car and figuring out that something had evidently gone terribly wrong. Rick peeled past the point where they usually parked their vehicles, getting as close to the prison as he possibly could, and burst out of the car as Michonne, Maggie and Glenn ran to meet them, alarmed by Rick’s urgency.

“Go get Hershel!” he yelled, “quickly!”

Glenn and Maggie ran off immediately, shocked, calling for Hershel as they bolted into the prison, and Rick hurried to the door Daryl was pressed against, opening it and helping Daryl to climb out backwards, dragging Merle out with him and onto the concrete. He and Michonne supported Merle’s legs as he slid from the seat, helping Daryl to lay Merle down gently, and they both frowned worriedly at how cold he was, at the lack of colour in his face. Daryl never lost contact with his sibling, hand pressed hard over his wound, his eyes never leaving him, and Rick felt his heart break at the way Daryl continued to sob softly, his face contorted in anguish.

Hershel came through the door to the outside courtyard blessedly fast, his crutches clacking loudly against the concrete, and picked up speed worriedly as his eyes alighted on the trio, Maggie and Glenn close behind with the others, having caught their attention in the commotion.

“What’s going on here?” Hershel asked worriedly, hobbling closer, panting from exertion.

“Merle’s been shot in the chest, he set an ambush on the Governor, took out a bunch of his men,” Rick explained, “he was unconscious when we found him, and he hasn’t woken up. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Help him,” Daryl begged, looking away from his brother for the first time since they’d arrived, his eyes wet and pleading, voice wavering, “please… please help him…”

“Get him into the shade, there’s no time to get him into the cell block,” Hershel said, moving closer to help, “Maggie, get my kit! Bethy, get some sheets and blankets!”

“Yes, Daddy!” the sisters said in tandem, running off immediately.

Daryl and Rick moved Merle into the shade, leaving a trail of blood from the car to where they set him down, and Hershel knelt beside Merle before he was taking stock of his injuries and feeling for his pulse, which was rapid and faltering as his heart threatened to fail. He held an ear over Merle’s mouth, listening to his breathing, noting the rattle to the inhales he was taking, how Merle was breathing shallowly in quick bursts of air, chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled for breath.

“We need to remove his shirt,” Hershel said, gesturing to the bloody patch decorating Merle’s sternum, “I need access to his chest.”

Daryl gripped his brother’s shirt, shredding it down the middle, made easy by the tear the bullet had ripped through the fabric, before he fumbled for his knife and used it to slice through the collar, parting the shirt in two and pulling the tattered cloth aside to reveal Merle’s battered, scarred torso. There were bruises blooming on his ribs and across his stomach, some that were obviously boot marks, marring his pale skin a mottled purple-black, and Rick felt his heart clench; Merle had suffered this for Daryl, had suffered this alone and would have died alone.

“Does the wound go all the way through?” Hershel asked, cataloguing the bruises as well as the extensive scarring marring Merle’s skin.

Daryl nodded briskly, his front soaked with the blood of his kin, still seeping steadily from the exit wound in Merle’s back and now slowly staining the concrete beneath them dark. Hershel slid his hand underneath Merle’s back, seeking the wound and touching its edges lightly.

“That may just save his life,” Hershel said, “we shall have to see. It’ll be a miracle, Daryl.”

Daryl nodded, his eyes wet, his hands brushing Merle’s skin, desperate to help but unable to do anything. The Greene girls returned with Hershel’s kit and some blankets, and Maggie knelt beside her father, ready to assist him, staring at the gaping wound through Merle’s chest, at the plethora of bruises and the scars that were already there. Hershel worked quickly, pulling on gloves and inserting his fingers into Merle’s mouth, checking and clearing his airway swiftly before he was returning his attention to his chest.

“Lay the sheets out so we can put him on them” Hershel instructed, and Rick did so unquestioningly before they were shifting Merle together and laying him flat on his back.

“Daryl, take his pulse at his wrist, tell me if you can’t feel it anymore,” Hershel instructed, knowing that he needed to give the younger Dixon something to do other than panic and stare at his brother’s unconscious face, “listen to his breathing, tell me if that’s abnormal for him.”

Daryl took Merle’s undamaged wrist into his hands immediately with a nod, fingers seeking the thready pulse there as he brought his ear over Merle’s mouth, staring down Merle’s front intently, watching the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

“His pulse is still there, but it’s weak,” Daryl said, “his breathing’s wet, n’raspy, n’slow. He doesn’t usually breathe like that.”

“I thought so…” Hershel said, his lips pursing, “air is pooling in his chest cavity. His lungs are collapsing with each breath.”

Daryl jerked upright at that, mouth dropping open as he stared, horrified, at Hershel, and settled a palm carefully over Merle’s heart.

“Wh-what can we do?” Daryl asked, squirming restlessly and squeezing Merle’s hand gently, “there has to be _somethin’_!”

“The only thing we can do is try to expel the air from his chest, then compress the wound and hope that the bleeding stops,” Hershel said, “I don’t know what else I can do, Daryl. I’m a veterinarian, not a doctor. You’re not meant to clean these kinds of wounds; the risk of contamination is too high.”

Daryl nodded his understanding before he sobbed helplessly, hopelessly, head tilting downward in upset as he looked at his brother’s pallid face once more, shifting to settle a hand at the top of Merle’s head and stroke his hair gently.

“Try to find some plastic wrap!” Hershel called to the bystanders, and the others immediately ran off to search for what Hershel had requested.

Hershel made a second pass at inspecting the wound, frowning when he noticed that Merle’s breathing had changed, had become more laboured and that blood was beginning to froth at the corners of his mouth.

“Was he breathing better when he was sitting upright?” Hershel asked, and Daryl thought for a second, listening to Merle gasp for air, before he nodded, “alright, let’s sit him up, nice and slowly.”

Rick and Daryl sat Merle up between them, hands keeping his torso as level as possible, and Hershel moved to get a better look at Merle’s back, finding the hole through his shirt. Maggie grabbed Daryl’s knife, moving and slitting Merle’s shirt to reveal his back, even more scarred than his front, before stripping him of his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way as they worked.

“Maggie, put some gloves on,” Hershel instructed, “we’re going to wipe away some of the blood so we can tape the seals to his skin.”

Maggie nodded, moving to put gloves on while Hershel wet some gauze with saline solution, using the gauze to wipe blood off of Merle’s back carefully, making sure it didn’t drip into the wound. Maggie cleaned Merle’s front with the same care, and they made sure the flesh around the wound was clean before they were sitting back, waiting anxiously for someone to bring them what they needed. Carol burst through the door, a roll of cling wrap in her grasp, blessedly still in its original packaging, and raced down the stairs towards them.

“Will this work?” she asked, sprinting to them.

“Yes, that’s perfect, thank you Carol,” Hershel said, “Maggie, cut out a six-inch square, try not to touch the film.”

Maggie cut a square out of the plastic with the scissors in his kit and handed it to her father, who pressed the plastic against the wound in Merle’s back as he exhaled, covering the hole and watching the plastic suck in slightly as Merle breathed in, before fluttering out as he breathed out again.

“Okay, that’s working,” Hershel said, “tape the top and sides and let the bottom be free.”

Maggie moved and did as her father told her, taping the plastic down with medical tape and making sure the plastic wouldn’t slip, before the duo moved to Merle’s front to do the same. Maggie cut out another square of plastic and Hershel pressed it to the wound on Merle’s front as he exhaled before Maggie taped the top and sides of it to Merle’s skin. The plastic on both sides of the wound sucked in as Merle inhaled, then fluttered as he exhaled, and slowly, so, so slowly, Merle’s breathing improved as the air trapped in his chest was expelled, allowing his lungs to inflate properly.

They waited for what felt like hours for Merle’s lungs to finally be able to fully expand, for him to be able to take breaths that didn’t have a raspy edge to them, until finally, Merle’s breathing was evening out and his pulse was a little stronger. Hershel decided that they needed to bind the wound and tend to Merle’s other injuries, to get him warm and keep him as comfortable as possible.

“Rick, Daryl, I need you to hold the gauze and the plastic steady so we can compress the wound” Hershel started, pulling a bandage out and feeding it under one of Merle’s arms for Maggie to grip on the other side, at Merle’s back.

Hershel grabbed some gauze, folding it into two tight squares, handing one to Maggie before pressing his to Merle’s front, over the wound, seeing Maggie do the same to Merle’s back from over Merle’s shoulder. Daryl and Rick pressed their hands over the gauze and they awaited instruction attentively.

“We’ll pull the bandage tight and secure it when he breathes out” Hershel said.

The father and daughter duo wrapped the bandage firmly around Merle’s torso, allowing Daryl and Rick to remove their hands before they pulled it tight as Merle exhaled, tight enough to compress the wound but not tight enough to hinder Merle’s breathing. Hershel taped the bandage, making sure it wouldn’t slip and pull the plastic off with it, and the four of them sighed and sat back on their haunches, exhausted.

“What do we do now?” Daryl asked softly, eyeing his brother’s slack face.

“All we can do now is wait,” Hershel said, “it’s up to Merle to pull through.”

Daryl swallowed, nodding, cupping the side of Merle’s neck in a broad palm and brushing a hand over Merle’s head, needing to be in contact with him.

“Ideally, we’d hook him up to an IV bag,” Hershel said, “of course, we don’t have one...”

Hershel trailed off and Daryl’s lip quivered, face crumpling a little again as tears started anew. They noticed that Merle was shivering, trembling a little, and Daryl was quick to cover him up, moving behind Merle and helping to wrap Merle’s torso in blankets, cocooning his sibling in warmth, before bringing his brother against his chest in a gentle, protective hug, nuzzling at his hairline with his nose as he tried to keep Merle warm with his body heat.

Hershel moved to Merle’s left, taking his hand gently and inspecting his truncated fingers, which continued to bleed sluggishly, dripping to the floor with a soft patter. He ran saline solution over them and wiped them with gauze until he could see the wounds more clearly, and tutted at how ragged the cuts were, at the way the digits had obviously been severed with something very blunt and with a lot of force. He applied pressure to the fingers with the gauze, stemming the flow of blood until it was slow enough for him to stitch them shut. He wiped them clean with rubbing alcohol before he stitched the wounds shut, wrapped the fingers in gauze and then wrapped them in bandages, binding the fingers together loosely.

He shifted to Merle’s other side to look at Merle’s right arm, noticing now that it was broken badly, the bone jutting out under the skin, limb limp. Daryl noticed him inspecting it and helped Hershel to unbuckle the prosthetic and slide it off his brother’s arm gently, his lips pursing at the raw marks the straps had rubbed into Merle’s flesh, at the painful looking burn at the end of his arm; he hadn’t seen it before and it struck a chord in him. Hershel felt the bone through the skin, getting an idea of where the break was before he gripped the arm and pulled, settling the broken bones back into place with a sickening snap.

Glenn ran to the gate, breaking a plank off of a pallet and snapping it into thin, short sticks before he ran them to Hershel’s side, picking splinters off the pieces as he went. Rick picked the remains of Merle’s shirt up off the ground and helped Hershel to splint and bind Merle’s arm with the wood and shirt tatters, keeping the bones in place until they could find a better solution. Hershel sat back on his heel with a sigh, looking Merle over and reaching to take his pulse again, finding that it was a lot stronger than it had been.

“He’s going to need blood,” Hershel broached, knowing that it was going to be critical in keeping Merle alive, but also knowing that not everyone knew their blood types and that it might just kill him to give him blood, “it’s his best bet at surviving this.”

“We have the same blood type,” Daryl said, meeting Hershel’s eyes, “I’ll give as much as he needs.”

“Oh, thank the Lord” Hershel breathed in a sigh of relief, and Daryl nodded his agreement.

Hershel rummaged through his bag again, bringing out a siphoning tube, fresh needles and intravenous cannulas as well as some alcohol wipes and a tourniquet. Hershel moved closer, tearing an alcohol wipe open and swabbing the crook of Daryl’s elbow clean to prepare him for a draw, before he was moving to do the same to Merle’s good arm. He affixed a tourniquet to the elder Dixon’s arm first, massaging the crook of his elbow to try to encourage a vein to the surface, and sighed in relief when finally, one appeared, sluggish from Merle’s blood loss, and swabbed the skin clean with a fresh alcohol wipe. He changed his gloves and affixed the cannulas to each end of the tube, mindful not to touch them to anything else, before he was carefully inserting one end into Daryl’s arm, shifting the tube and watching the younger Dixon’s blood as it progressed, nodding his approval at the strong flow.

“I’m going to fit you both with a cannula, so I only have to insert a needle once…” Hershel said softly, adjusting Daryl’s cannula, “it won’t do to have to find a new vein every time he needs blood; he’s going to need a lot of it.”

“Thank you,” Daryl said, nodding his understanding, “he hates needles, so that’s great…”

Hershel waited for the blood to reach the other end of the tube, for it to start to drip from the other needle, forcing any trapped air out of the tube, before he was moving to insert the other needle into Merle’s arm gently. Thankfully it slipped in easily, and they all seemed to release the same breath as Merle was fitted with a cannula, linked up to the tube, and Daryl’s blood began to flow through his brother’s veins.

“Good,” Hershel said softly, “now all we can do is wait.”

Daryl gave his blood readily, cradling his sibling against his chest, in the circlet of his thighs, and there was an all-encompassing silence as the gravity of the situation set in. Merle was gravely wounded, had gained his injuries from trying to protect his sibling and thus the group, despite the fact that everyone had made it clear that he was the black sheep, that he wasn’t wanted and that he wouldn’t be mourned.

Merle had endured a lot of pain throughout his life, made evident by the magnitude of scars littering his torso, now exposed to them for the first time, and it began to make sense why Merle was the way he was. Guilt surged through Rick, and he looked around at the others, finding similar expressions on their faces. Carol’s eyes were fixed on the siblings, hand covering her mouth as she tried not to cry. Beth was at her side with Judith, weeping quietly into her hand. Maggie and Glenn were standing close by, holding each other, eyes filled with upset. Carl’s face was firmly set in worry. Hershel was grim and reflective, solemn faced. Michonne’s lips were pursed in concern, her usually stoic face softened with sympathy.

They all watched Daryl cradle Merle against him as he gave his sibling blood, his attention so wholly focussed on Merle that none of them seemed to exist in his world at that moment. No one knew what to say, nothing felt appropriate in such an upsetting situation, so they just stood in solemn silence, taking comfort in each other’s presence for a while.

“Thank you, all of you…” Daryl finally said, breaking the silence, “I appreciate your help. N’I know he would too…”

“Of course we’d help, Daryl,” Carol said, tearing up, “if there’s anything he needs, anything you need, we’ll be right here.”

The others nodded their agreement, and Daryl smiled up at them, nodding his thanks before he was returning his attention to his brother once more, pressing his nose against his temple.

“We have to prepare for whatever the Governor has planned next,” Rick said quietly, “anyone have any suggestions?”

“We should leave,” Hershel said, accepting Rick’s help when he moved to stand, “pack everything we can into the vehicles and leave as soon as possible.”

“We’ve put so much work into this place,” Maggie argued, “this is our home. We’ve been working on making it safer.”

“It’s not safe anymore…” Hershel said back, “not with that madman on the loose.”

“How about we set an ambush… clear the prison, put our stuff in the cars and take them away,” Daryl said, looking up at them, stroking Merle’s side with a broad palm, “make the place look deserted, hide inside, hit ‘em when they least expect it, send ‘em runnin’.”

The others mulled the idea over, looking around at each other. They were only eleven strong, with one only an infant, one a cripple, and another gravely wounded and unconscious.

“Merle took out a lot of his men,” Daryl said, “means he’s only got citizens left, maybe a couple’a trained soldiers.”

“We saw them before we found Merle, saw their bodies, recognised their faces,” Rick agreed, nodding, a plan formulating behind his eyes, “Merle took down most of his men; we have a chance. It might be our _only_ chance.”

They looked around at each other, and everyone seemed to agree to the plan, nodding their agreement, and so they decided to start to formulate a plan, moving inside to the common room so they could talk. Rick helped Daryl to move Merle inside and into Merle’s cell, and the others let the brothers be as they set into motion, starting to strip the prison of supplies and their belongings, stashing them into the cars they had as they prepared to move.

“Thanks for your help again…” Daryl said from his place beside Merle, and Rick smiled at the way he stroked his brother’s forehead, “I appreciate it...”

“Any time, Daryl…” he said softly, “let us know if anything changes.”

“I will, Rick” Daryl said, smiling.

The younger Dixon turned back to Merle, his eyes dancing over his sibling’s face, and Rick took is as his cue to leave them be, hearing the younger Dixon’s voice behind him as he left.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Mer…” he said softly, “but, I love you… I love you so much.”


	3. Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I completely forgot to upload this yesterday!  
> Sorry about that :) <3

Daryl moved to do his share when Hershel deemed that he needed to take a break from giving blood, reluctantly leaving Merle’s side to help the others pack, watching over him as often as he could, checking on him frequently. Daryl bundled a couple more blankets around Merle when he found him trembling with the cold, propping him more upright with pillows and cushioning his chin against his chest with the excess blankets so that he could breathe more easily. There was always someone in the cell with him, watching over him, and he was checked on routinely by both Hershel and Daryl, his heartrate taken and his breathing monitored, his bandages checked for any sign of fresh blood.

Daryl had decided to go outside for a while to get some fresh air and sit beside Merle’s bike, and was deep in thought as he rummaged distractedly through a bag, deciding what to put into the saddlebags on Merle’s bike. His thoughts were solely on Merle, wanting with everything in him to be inside, by his brother’s side, but he knew that he needed to help pack and that it was good for him to be away for a little while, knew that the others would look after Merle in his stead.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Carol asked as she approached, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I’m fine, thanks,” he said reassuringly, before sighing, slumping a little, “m’jus’ worried about Merle…”

“Me too… we all are…” she said softly, “we’re here for you, Daryl. For both of you.”

He nodded his thanks, his eyes glinting with gratitude as he met hers, before they were drifting away in thought.

“You know, Merle never did nothing like this his whole life” Daryl said after a moment, smiling sadly at her as his eyes met hers again.

“He gave us a chance,” she said, smiling back and pausing for a few seconds before continuing, “why don’t you go and sit with him while we finish up?”

Daryl nodded, taking her hand when she held it out to help him up and holding it, squeezing it affectionately for a second before he shoved the remainder of his stuff into the bags and disappeared into the prison once more to join his brother.

The others worked together quickly as they packed everything away and prepared to leave, and before they knew it the prison was as bare as they could manage, and their vehicles were stuffed to the brim. They looked around at each other, giving small, triumphant smiles, before their faces were going solemn again upon finding the Dixon brothers missing, Daryl having gone to check on his brother not long beforehand.

“Alright, let’s head out,” Rick said, “I’ll go get Daryl and Merle.”

He turned away from the others and walked toward the brothers’ cell, finding them laying together on one cot, Daryl curled around his older brother protectively, shielding the older man from the world with Merle pressed against the wall and Daryl on the edge of the cot. Daryl’s nose was pressed to Merle’s temple as he held him gently in his arms, humming in his ear, soft and low, a song the others had heard him hum from time to time when he thought he was alone. The fingers of one hand brushed Merle’s chest, over his heart, while the other hand stroked through Merle’s hair slowly and rhythmically, and Rick melted at the picture they made, guilt settling heavy in his chest. He knocked on the bars to get Daryl’s attention gently, and smiled at the younger Dixon when he opened his eyes and turned just enough to look at him.

“We have to go…” Rick said softly, not wanting to interrupt such a tender moment, but knowing that he needed to, “let’s get him outside and into a car.”

Daryl sighed and nodded, nuzzling his brother’s temple before he withdrew, making Rick’s heart ache, and together they lifted Merle’s dead weight between them and carried him outside. They settled Merle into the front passenger seat of one of the vehicles, bundling him in blankets and clipping the seatbelt around him. They all set off into the forest, searching for a safe place to hide the cars and Merle’s bike, covering them with leaves and branches and hiding them from unsuspecting eyes.

Merle was taken from inside the car and settled onto the forest floor so that Hershel could access him more easily, and they propped him up against a tree and wrapped him in blankets, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. Daryl fussed over his sibling for a while, stroking his skin with his fingers and speaking to him in a quiet voice, before they needed set their plan into motion. Daryl was understandably reluctant, not wanting to leave his brother’s side, and Hershel put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“I’ll look after him, Daryl…” Hershel reassured, “I promise you.”

“Thank you, Hershel” Daryl said in return, brushing a hand over Merle’s forehead before he was standing to leave.

Daryl, Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn and Carol all made their way back to the prison, preparing their ambush carefully and making sure they were all in agreement on the plan. Their plan was to make the Governor and his men believe that they had fled and left the place deserted, to coax them inside with noises, down into the tombs, before scaring them outside and chasing them away. So they lay anxiously in wait for the Governor and his goons to arrive.

They were alerted to their arrival by the sound of tires rumbling over dirt and gravel as a convoy of armoured vehicles made their way towards the prison, and they met each other’s eyes nervously before they were settling into their positions and preparing themselves for a fight. The Governor and his men were immediately on the assault as they approached, and inside they heard an explosion as one of the towers fell, followed shortly by heavy thuds as another was fired upon with a mounted turret, littering the walls with heavy rounds.

There was a pause as they entered through the gates, before the crackle of gunfire started up again, littering the walls, accompanied by the hiss and sizzle of automatic fire hitting dirt and sand. Another explosion, and the sound of glass shattering as another tower fell, the sound of wood splintering, torn apart, as they fired upon their defences. Then there was silence again, but for the sizzle of sand settling over the ground, then the whine and bang of the tailgate of one of the vehicles swinging open, boots hitting the earth as the Governor’s men disembarked.

“Go!” they heard the Governor command, followed by footsteps as they started moving towards the main compound in a pack, following one vehicle through the yard.

A vehicle crashed through the gate into the main compound and they flooded inside, and the prison group held their breaths as they got closer, waiting anxiously for the outcome of their plan. They heard the whine of metal as they used the vehicle to pull one of the inner gates off, granting them access to the inside of C block, then the sliding door to the inside click loudly as it was wrenched open. Footsteps resonated through the common room and sleeping quarters as the Governor and his men entered the compound and so they executed the first step of their plan.

Daryl rolled an empty can across the floor, which rattled about, and waited on bated breath for the group to hear it, and grinned when he heard whispers, then footsteps, and then the screech of another door opening, closer this time, accompanied by a hint of light from a flashlight as someone approached. The footsteps seemed to halve, like the group had split, so he made more noise to egg the group closest to him onwards, hearing them pause, listening, before they were shuffling closer, towards where they wanted them, in the tombs.

They came into view, squinting into the darkness, and Daryl closed his eyes before he was setting off two flash grenades and a few smoke grenades, listening to the group’s confused, scared screams, before Rick was setting off an ear-splitting alarm further down the hallway, sending a red light dancing over the walls of the hallways.

“Hold your ground!” they heard the Governor yell over the din of panic, “hold your ground!”

His group didn’t listen, inexperienced and unprepared, and instead started running in a panic, stumbling, lost in the maze of the tombs and in the haze of the smoke grenades, and there was the sound of gunfire as they found walkers approaching and they shot at them blindly. They scrambled about, making their way outside, scattering like ants across the pavement, and Maggie and Glenn, positioned above them on opposite gangways, shot at them as they ran away.

“Get the hell out of here!” Glenn yelled from their position.

The two of them continued to fire on the group, dodging returned fire from Martinez, Shumpert and the Governor himself, firing into the convoy as they drove away, kicking up dust as they retreated, effectively spooked.

“We did it?” Maggie asked.

“We did it. Come on down” Glenn affirmed.

They all made their way down to the courtyard, breathing heavily, pumped up with adrenaline, and smiled at each other.

“We did it,” Rick said, “we drove em’ out.”

“We should go after them” Michonne said.

“We should finish it” Daryl agreed.

“It _is_ finished,” Maggie said, “didn’t you see them hightail it out of here?”

“They could regroup” Michonne said.

“No, we can’t take the chance,” Glenn said, “he’s not gonna stop.”

“They’re right,” Carol agreed, “we can’t keep living like this.”

“So we take the fight to Woodbury,” Maggie said, “we barely made it back last time.”

“He don’t care…” Daryl said, and the others knew he was right; they needed to end this.

“Yeah…” Rick sighed, before stepping forward, heading towards where the others were hidden in the forest, “let’s check on the others.”

Daryl nodded and was immediately running off to find his brother, sprinting into the forest towards where he had been moved to, kept safe by Hershel, Beth and Carl, and the others followed, sticking close to the younger Dixon. They all convened on their location, and their hearts sunk upon finding the older Dixon having a fit on the forest floor, gasping for air.

“He’s fitting,” Hershel said calmly, setting a hand on Daryl’s chest, stopping him from rushing over to Merle, “let him fit, we’ll look after him once it’s over.”

Rick stepped over to the others, kissing Judith’s forehead and kneeling to hug Carl as Maggie stepped forward to hug her dad and sister. They noticed the body of one of the Governor’s soldiers close by and realised that the boy had stumbled across them and had been shot dead, pursing their lips at just how young he was, likely only a few years older than Carl. Hershel met Rick’s eyes, and Rick saw worry and upset there, and wondered what the story was, deciding to ask when they were all safe inside again.

Merle finally stopped jerking nearly two minutes later, his body going lax, and Daryl moved to roll his brother onto his side gently, taking his pulse at the wrist, then at the throat when he couldn’t find it there.

“His pulse is really weak,” Daryl said, throat tight, “n’his skin is cold.”

“We need to get him back to the prison,” Hershel said, “he needs to be kept warm.”

Daryl nodded, and the others made room so he and Rick could move him, bundling him back into the closest car before they were speeding away back to the prison, the others not far behind in the other vehicle or on foot. They parked close to the prison and took Merle inside quickly, supporting his weight between them as they made their way to the cell block.

“I want him in my cell with me, I need to be there for him,” Daryl said firmly, “I need to be able to look after him during the night.”

Rick nodded, agreeing without hesitation, and they started towards Daryl’s cell. They settled Merle into the left cot carefully, propping him so he was more upright to keep his windpipe clear and propping his broken arm up on a pillow. Rick left to speak to the others and help them unpack while Daryl undressed his brother, getting him out of his dirty clothes and dressing him in fresh, warm pants, leaving his upper half undressed for easy access, fitting him with warm socks over his feet as well as over the end of his stump arm. When Rick returned Daryl was fussing over Merle, wrapping more blankets over him and fluffing his pillow, almost manic in his motions to make Merle as comfortable as possible.

“Daryl…” Rick said, trying to distract him from his manic motions.

Daryl’s eyes flicked to meet his briefly, before they were returning to Merle’s face.

“Yeah?” he asked distractedly.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry this happened,” he said, patting Daryl’s shoulder before withdrawing, “it was my decision that put him in danger.”

“Yeah, but he went through with it,” Daryl said, “he chose to follow your orders.”

Rick swallowed at that, eyes flicking over Merle’s unconscious form before they were finding Daryl’s eyes, finally focussed on him.

“Things are going to be different now, no more following orders from one person,” Rick said, “from now on, we decide things as a group, we share the load.”

Daryl smiled and nodded his approval, fingers stroking Merle’s forehead, and Rick felt his heart swell with upset upon remembering that Merle could have died, that he was still on the brink of death, and that he’d done it all to keep Daryl safe, and by doing so kept them safe.

“Please let me know if you need help with anything,” Rick said, “the others and I are here for you and Merle.”

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that if it comes to it…” Daryl said, before he was shifting to settle into the cot beside his brother, sitting by Merle’s side and brushing a hand through his hair gently.

Rick smiled and sat on the opposite cot, watching Daryl fuss over Merle, and they sat in silence for a long while, and Rick waited patiently to hear what Daryl wanted to say, watching him as he seemed to war within himself over the words he wanted to choose.

“He’s not a monster, you know…” Daryl said finally with a sad smile, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” Rick asked.

“When we were kids, he always tried to be there for me,” Daryl said, “he’s always been the person I’ve looked up to the most.”

Rick smiled as Daryl reminisced, seeing a fond look in his eyes, prompting him to continue.

“He started to change when I was really young…” Daryl said, “I don’t know what happened, he’s never talked to me about it. He used to be a lot less…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “angry and erratic.”

Rick’s gaze found the scarring on Merle’s front, flicking from one scar to another, and he had to fight back anger at whoever had caused them. He had his suspicions as to who it was, had seen glimpses of similar scarring on Daryl’s back, and felt his heart ache for them. They’d obviously lived rough lives, were distrustful of others but unerringly loyal to one another; a bond usually only formed through shared pain and depthless love.

“He tried to talk to me, before he left with Michonne, tried to open up…” Daryl said, “but I only realised after he was gone what he was trying to do.”

Rick was silent, just lending an ear as Daryl talked, waiting patiently.

“He’s not good with mushy stuff, ain’t never been able to talk through his feelings,” Daryl said, his voice and eyes sad, “I didn’t even realise that he was trying to open up till it was too late…”

Rick smiled supportively and reached over to set a comforting hand on Daryl’s shoulder.

“You’ll have all the time in the world to talk when he wakes up…” he said, “he’s tough. You said it yourself, ‘nobody can kill Merle but Merle’… he’ll wake up.”

Daryl smiled wobblily, covering Rick’s hand with his own, his eyes filling with tears.

“I hope so, I have so much I need to say to him…” he whispered, voice shaking in upset, “he and I have so much we need to talk about.”

Rick smiled back at him, eyes travelling to Merle’s face, and he reached over to apply a gentle squeeze to one of Merle’s shins before he was withdrawing from both of them.

“Michonne and I are going after the Governor,” Rick said, “we need to finish this.”

“I’ll come with you,” Daryl said, “let’s go get this asshole.”

“Are you sure?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got your back,” Daryl said, nodding, “I know the others will keep Merle safe while we’re gone.”

Daryl leaned over Merle to adjust his sheets and pillows one last time, cupping the side of Merle’s neck briefly and stroking a thumb under Merle’s ear, before he was shifting to follow Rick down to the common room. Daryl finally stood, standing to make his way out the door and into the common area, but stopped just as he was about to leave the cell, pausing before stepping back inside and moving to his brother’s side, leaning down to speak to Merle, pressing his forehead to Merle’s gently and shifting to brush a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be back, brother…” he said softly, pausing before he was pressing a brief, unpractised kiss to Merle’s forehead and then withdrawing, “love you, Mer.”


	4. Citizens

Daryl and Rick made their way downstairs and chatted to the others for a short while, outlining another plan with them just in case the Governor returned while they were gone, before they were setting off towards Woodbury with Michonne. Daryl retrieved Merle’s bike from where it had been hidden in the forest, joining them at the gates, and they started down the road determinedly, Rick and Michonne following close behind the younger Dixon in a car.

They were immediately put on edge when they discovered the Governor’s convoy on their way, not far down the road, and were horrified to find along with it walkers and a multitude of bodies; the bodies of the people they’d scared away not an hour ago. Daryl stopped, propping Merle’s bike up with its kick stand, and turned to look at Rick and Michonne as they got out of their vehicle, before they were making their way slowly towards the head of the convoy to investigate.

They made short work of the walkers together while they looked around, solemn and silent, as they tried to piece together what had happened, and Daryl startled when something banged on the window of the truck he had his back to, and Rick drew his gun to defend him. They were surprised to discover a woman inside, pale with fear, and they ushered her out of the truck, Rick with his gun still trained on her, and Daryl with his knife. She climbed out slowly, hands up and visible, and Daryl shoved her away from the truck, checking the inside of the cab for other survivors before shutting the door and turning his attention back to her as Rick spoke.

“What happened here?” Rick asked.

“He- he turned on us, he was calling us cowards and screaming at us to turn back,” she stammered, eyes filled with tears, “but we refused to turn back and fight, and he… slaughtered _everybody_.”

Rick, Daryl and Michonne looked at each other, faces grim, and they looked around at the carnage, at the soldiers’ faces, a mix of young and old, men and women, pursing their lips and grieving for them. They hadn’t wanted to fight; the Governor had dragged them into his sick revenge fantasy, they’d never deserved this.

“What’s your name?” Rick asked, voice and demeanour soft, the woman had been through hell.

“Karen” she replied.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, Karen,” he said softly, “I’m Rick, this is Daryl and Michonne.”

“Thanks for saving me,” she said.

“Do you know where he went?” Rick asked, “are the others in danger?”

“He left with Caesar and Shumpert,” the woman said, “I have no clue where they would have gone, but they didn’t go towards Woodbury.”

“Andrea will be there, we can talk with her, figure out what we can do with the rest of Woodbury’s citizens,” Michonne said, “I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with some way to help them.”

“Andrea hopped the wall a few hours before we set off,” Karen said, frowning, “she didn’t make it to the prison?”

“No…” Daryl said, looking to Rick and Michonne concernedly, “we didn’t see her at all.”

Michonne’s lips pursed, worry mounting about her friend’s safety.

“We need to go to Woodbury, see if there are any survivors,” Rick said, “see if he’s keeping Andrea somewhere.”

The others agreed, and Karen climbed into the car with Rick and Michonne as Daryl mounted his brother’s bike, and they headed off towards Woodbury, eyes peeled for the Governor and his cronies.

They reached Woodbury just after nightfall and they were immediately on edge, discovering soon enough that they were right to be so, upon finding themselves taking cover from a sniper as well as automatic fire, and they took cover behind a car and fired back, ready to fight till their last.

“Tyreese!” Karen called through a lull in the gunfire, stepping out from cover, “it’s me, don’t sh-”

“Get down!” Rick yelled, yanking her back behind cover by her arm.

“Karen!” a man’s voice boomed, sounding familiar to Rick and Daryl, “Karen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Karen called, getting out from cover again and walking out into the open.

“Where’s the Governor?” Tyreese called.

“He fired on everyone!” she said, voice threatening to crack with upset, “he killed them all!”

There was stunned silence from the other side of the wall.

“Why are you with _them_?!” Tyreese called, apparently recognising them.

“They… saved me!” she called. 

There was silence again for a few moments, the night air filled with the sound of crickets, before Rick was deciding their next course of action.

“We’re comin’ out!” he called, putting his gun away and looking at the others before repeating it, “we’re comin’ out.”

Daryl shook his head, staring at him from his place behind the car like he was crazy, and Michonne stared at him concernedly. Daryl stewed for a few seconds before he took his lead, albeit grudgingly, and stood, along with Michonne, and the three of them came out from their hiding place, Rick with his hands up, a gesture Daryl and Michonne quickly replicated as they walked towards Woodbury’s gates.

One of the heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing Tyreese and Sasha on guard, the rest of Woodbury looking deserted, and they formed a group just outside the gates, breathing hard from the adrenaline coursing through them.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Tyreese asked, and Rick looked to Daryl and Michonne before he was replying.

“We were comin’ to finish this,” he said calmly, “until we saw what the Governor did.”

“He… he killed them?” Tyreese asked, needing confirmation from another person, his voice soft.

“Yeah…” Rick replied with a dejected sigh, pausing for a moment before continuing, “Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall, goin’ for the prison. She never made it.”

There was silence as they looked around at each other for a moment, before Rick was continuing.

“She might be here” he suggested.

Rick, Daryl and Michonne led the other three towards the building where they had found Glenn and Maggie with Michonne’s help, and made their way inside, on edge and ready to fight.

“This is where he had Glenn and Maggie” Rick said as they walked along the hallway.

“The Governor held people here?” Tyreese asked, horrified.

“He did more than hold ‘em…” Daryl replied darkly.

They turned the corner, weapons trained forwards, and froze as they heard clanging from inside the room at the end of the hallway, its corrugated iron door dented, locked from the outside. They approached the door cautiously, dreading what they’d find behind it, and paused, hoping to hear something else inside. Michonne drew her katana, lips pursed, and looked to Rick.

“Will you open it?” Michonne asked quietly, and he gave a little nod.

He reached forward, holding his gun ready with his other hand as Daryl did the same on his right, ready to fire upon whatever was in the room.

“One, two…” he counted in a whisper.

On three he unlatched the door and it swung open with a screech, revealing the room to them, and they breathed out in unison upon finding Andrea, strapped to a chair, and Milton, sitting against the wall, out cold. They were both unharmed but for minor bruises and scratches, Milton the worst off of the pair, sporting a black eye, but they seemed okay, despite the fact they were suffering from obvious hunger and dehydration.

“Andrea!” Michonne breathed, and the three of them stepped into the room, their relief palpable.

“Oh, thank God you’re here!” Andrea said, her eyes filled with frightened tears, “he was going to kill us.”

Daryl and Michonne made short work of her handcuffs as Rick stepped over to help Milton, thanking their luck that he had merely been knocked unconscious, and was just now coming to, groggy and confused.

“I tried to stop them…” Andrea said dejectedly, rubbing her sore wrists before turning her attention to Rick, asking after the others, “Judith, Carl, the rest of them…”

“Us,” Rick corrected gently, reassuring her that she had a place with them, “the rest of us.”

“Are they alive?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Rick replied, sending a soft smile Daryl’s way, “they’re alive.”

“It’s good you found them,” Andrea said to Michonne nudging her, “no one can make it alone now.”

“They never could” Daryl added, smiling as he made a mental note to teach Merle that lesson later.

“I just didn’t want anyone to die,” she said, eyes drifting about thoughtfully, “I tried.”

“I know, and you did, and that’s all that matters. Your heart was in the right place,” Rick said, “I wish it could have gone peacefully, too.”

She smiled up at them as Michonne helped her to stand finally, after hours of being locked in the chair her legs were weak, and Milton wasn’t much better off, taking Tyreese’s support gratefully.

“Who else is left here?” Rick asked.

“Not many are left,” Sasha said, “he left everyone who couldn’t fight behind.”

Rick nodded, looking at Daryl and Michonne, and they all seemed to come to an agreement together without needing to speak a word, and Andrea seemed to be on the same wave length and smiled.

“We’ll take them back to the prison,” Rick said, “they’ll be safe there. We have plenty of room.”

“How’re we gonna get them there?” Daryl asked.

“There’s a bus on the outskirts of Woodbury,” Andrea suggested, “it should fit everyone.”

“Great, we’ll get them all together at sunrise and head off,” Rick said, “they’ll listen to you, right, Andrea?”

“I think so…” she said, “I don’t know what he said to the others, but hopefully they’ll listen.”

They finally made their way back outside, slowly, mindful of Andrea and Milton’s injuries, and breathed in the fresh night air, a welcome change from the stuffiness of the room Andrea and Milton had been locked in. They made their way into one of the buildings, settling in and sitting on a set of couches and chairs in the living room and letting out sighs as the events of the day set in.

They spoke into the night and had hit a patch of comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company, when Andrea broke it.

“He would have killed us,” she said, staring into the fire thoughtfully, “but he was injured and angry.”

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look, having a good idea who it was that would have injured the psychopath, and Daryl smiled to himself, glad that Merle had at least done a little damage to the other man before he’d been overpowered. Andrea and Milton seemed to be on edge, eyeing Daryl, and finally Andrea was saying something that made Daryl’s chest go tight on instinct.

“He was boasting about killing Merle…” Andrea broached, her eyes tearing up again as she looked to Daryl, and he knew that she understood the pain of losing a sibling well, “I’m so sorry, Daryl. I’m so sorry.”

Daryl swallowed, his eyes falling to the floor, before he was looking back up at her and smiling.

“He tried, n’he nearly succeeded,” Daryl said, “but Merle’s harder to kill than he thinks.”

Sighs of relief came from both her and Milton, tearful laughter tearing from her as their faces lit up, and Daryl’s smile broadened as he wondered at the fact that Merle had left such an impression on them both that they’d both been so affected by his supposed death.

“He’s not out of the woods yet, he was shot in the chest, n’ he hasn’t woken up since we found him,” he said, not wanting them to get their hopes up, “he’s going to need a lot of bed rest and a lot of care, and we have no clue if he’ll wake up. But he’s alive for now…”

\--

Finally dawn broke and they made their way outside to the centre of Woodbury, watching as Woodbury’s remaining citizens started to make their way outside for the day, trickling out onto the pavement. Rick, Daryl and Michonne stood off to the side as the remaining citizens congregated around Andrea, Tyreese, Sasha and Karen, looking to them for guidance as they realised that something was amiss.

“I know it’s early and you’re all hoping to go about your day,” Andrea said, “but unfortunately we have to leave.”

Murmurs rose from the group as they looked to each other in disbelief.

“The Governor turned on the others, shot them dead when they refused to fight,” she continued, “and then he left, and now he has abandoned us.”

The citizens were understandably upset, muttering amongst themselves as they looked to each other with fearful gazes, their worlds crumbling down around them upon hearing their friends and family members were dead and that their leader had abandoned them. The upset murmurs hummed from the crowd as they talked amongst each other, lost and verging on frantic, consoling one another.

“He lied to you, he lied to all of us, and I’m sorry,” she continued, “but we can’t dwell on it right now. He has left us vulnerable and we need to leave.”

They looked at her, confusion and fear on their faces, but Rick could see that they still trusted her, that they still looked up to her and would look to her for guidance.

“You have a place with us at the prison if you’ll accept it,” Rick spoke up, finding all of their eyes on him in an instant, “all of you do. We have walls, we have shelter, and we’ll keep you safe.”

The murmurs arose again, and Rick worried that they would say no and revolt, their thoughts and beliefs poisoned by a paranoid, violent man driven mad with grief, but they seemed to turn to him, listening to his words, and he knew that they were warming to them, understanding that they only wanted to help.

“Grab your belongings, bring everything you can carry, we’ll put you all on the bus and take you there,” Rick said, “food, water and blankets take precedence, but you should be able to bring everything you want.”

The whispers continued, the remaining citizens huddling together to speak to one another, before they were turning back to Rick, and nodding their agreement. They took the bus, driving it into the centre of Woodbury before they were ushering everyone on board and to their seats, their belongings piled inside with them, under seats and on laps, as well as in the back of the car Rick and Michonne had taken. It was quick work with so many helping hands, and in no time, they were ready to set off, Rick and Daryl watching as the last of the Woodbury citizens’ belongings were stowed away safely.

“Let’s get back home,” Rick said, smiling, “let’s get you back to your brother.”

Daryl smiled and nodded, itching to be back at his brother’s side.


	5. Home

Daryl led the convoy on Merle’s bike, followed by Rick and Michonne in the car and Andrea, Milton, Tyreese and Sasha in the bus, watching over the Woodbury citizens as they followed close behind. They pulled up outside the prison and came to a stop in the courtyard, climbing out of their respective vehicles and standing in front of the prison to watch the Woodbury citizens as they piled outside and stood together, turning their attention to them. The commotion had drawn the others from inside, and they stood in the doorways, eyeing the newcomers warily before they were making their way into the courtyard to investigate and to help. Daryl met Rick’s eyes, and Rick nodded, knowing what he was trying to convey, and Daryl took off at a sprint to check on his brother.

“They’re gonna join us” Rick explained to the others softly, and they seemed to accept it quickly, trusting his judgement.

A sea of new faces peered at them, understandably frightened and wary after being cast into the outside world after living inside the relative safety of Woodbury’s walls for so long. They were ushered inside by Rick and the others, were welcomed at the door by the others with open arms and warm smiles.

Inside, they deliberated that they needed to monitor the intake of Woodbury’s refugees, checking people over and learning their faces and names, assigning them cells and telling them about the prison and its utilities. Daryl returned a short while later, just as intake was almost coming to an end, walking to Rick’s side and smiling, letting the other man know that his brother was still alive.

“How’s he doing?” Rick asked as the person he’d been talking to left, led towards their cell by Sasha.

“Not great, but he’s alive,” Daryl said, “when we’re done here, I’ll probably spend the rest of the day with him in our cell.”

“Of course, absolutely, Daryl,” Rick nodded, noticing the wetness in Daryl’s eyes, “stay with him as much as you need.”

Daryl wiped his eyes, throat clicking as he swallowed, before he regained his composure, turning his attention to something other than his injured brother.

“Need my help?” Daryl asked, looking around.

“We’re just about done,” Rick said, chuckling, “but sure.”

Daryl shrugged, smiling at him, and locked eyes with the man who approached Rick, next in the queue to be greeted and assigned to a cell.

“Hi, I’m Rick Grimes,” Rick greeted, holding his hand out for the man to shake, “pleasure to meet you.”

“Daryl” Daryl added, offering his hand as well.

“Pleasure to meet you both, thank you for taking us in,” the man said with a friendly smile, shaking Rick’s hand and then Daryl’s, “I’m Caleb Subramanian, but the others call me Doctor S.”

They stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before Daryl was speaking, hoping he’d heard correctly.

“Wait… you’re a doctor?” Daryl asked, his eyes glinting with overwhelmed relief when Caleb nodded.

The others turned to look at him when they heard the last word, eyes lighting up in the same way as they looked at each other elatedly, and Caleb realised that they’d all been on edge, stressed about something. He’d assumed that they were uptight, worried about welcoming strangers into their home, but it was coming to light now just what they were worried about, one of their own was injured, badly enough to need a doctor. Daryl laid his hand on Caleb’s upper arm gently, stepping closer and huffing a sigh of relief.

“Please, will you help my brother? He’s been shot in the chest,” Daryl said, eyes pleading, “we’ve done what we can to stabilise him… but he… he needs help.”

Caleb nodded immediately, grabbing his medical kit, his face going serious, and followed Daryl quickly into Cell block C towards one of the upper cells, tucked in the corner, Rick not far behind as they left the others to continue the intake. Merle was lying in the leftmost cot, broken stump arm bared and propped up with his blanket, his upper torso propped up with a multitude of pillows. Caleb noticed Merle’s breathing, noticed the bandages that were wrapped around his chest, and was immediately going into doctor mode and moving forward to check him over. He set his bag down beside the cot and rummaged through it to retrieve his stethoscope.

He warmed the diaphragm briefly between his hands before he was inserting the eartips into his ears and pressing the diaphragm to Merle’s chest, over his heart, and listening to his heartbeat, noting its rhythm and strength, and pursed his lips at finding it weaker than he’d like, drumming away in Merle’s chest and trying its hardest to keep him alive. He moved the diaphragm to Merle’s ribs, below his right armpit, and listened for a few breaths before moving and pressing it to different parts of Merle’s chest to get a better read on his breathing and how his lungs were functioning, pursing his lips again before turning to the younger Dixon.

“I’ll have to take a look at the wounds,” he said, “let’s sit him up.”

Daryl nodded and moved to help, supporting Merle’s weight as gently as he could as Caleb unwound the bandages around Merle’s chest to reveal the plastic wrap and gauze. He removed the gauze and then the plastic, unsticking it from Merle’s skin, and tutted at the wound he found beneath them. It was a little enflamed, the wound pink around its edges, a testament to the violence he’d endured, but wasn’t infected.

“Do you know what calibre this was?” he asked.

“No, we didn’t see it happen,” Daryl replied softly, “I think it was probably a 9mm round.”

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“Yesterday,” Daryl said, “Hershel patched him up as best he could as soon as we got him here.”

“Does it go all the way through?” Caleb asked, and breathed a relieved sigh when Daryl nodded, “that’s good. That’s very good.”

He moved to check the exit wound, inspecting it briefly for shrapnel fragments before he was sitting back and moving to rummage through his bag.

“Has he woken up at all?” he asked.

“No, he’s been unconscious since we found him,” Daryl said, “that was around midday yesterday.”

“Has he moved at all?” Caleb asked.

“His fingers flex, and his eyes move,” Daryl said, “he twitches a bit…”

“That’s good,” Caleb nodded, “his brain is functioning.”

“He had a seizure yesterday,” Daryl added, making Caleb look up and purse his lips, “lasted about a minute and a half.”

“Does he have a history of seizures?” Caleb asked, and Daryl shook his head, “we’ll monitor if he has more, write down times and severities.”

Doctor S continued to look Merle over, taking in his pallor, the cuts littering his body, the colour of the bruises that covered him, his broken arm and missing fingers. The bruising was particularly bad in a few places that worried Caleb, staining his back a dark, painful purple and his ribs a mottled version of the same shade.

“These bruises are very dark…” he said, pursing his lips, “I’m just going to test if his ribs are broken.”

He started to prod gently at Merle’s torso, feeling for injury to his spine under the bruise and feeling the give of his ribs and whether his internal organs were swelling, and sat back once he was satisfied with his findings.

“Three broken ribs from what I can feel,” he said, before prodding gently at the bruising around Merle’s throat, “we’ll leave his chest unwrapped, we don’t want to constrict his chest as they heal.”

“What about the bullet wound?” Rick asked.

“From what I can hear, you’ve expelled the air that was trapped in his chest, so I’m just going to cover it,” Caleb said, “I’ll insert a chest tube later if his breathing worsens, but hopefully it won’t come to that.”

He re-dressed the wound at Merle’s back, cleaning its edges very carefully with an alcohol wipe before he was covering it with gauze. He moved to Merle’s front and did the same with the wound in his chest, applying the same care to it as he had with the one at his back, before he was sitting back.

“So, do… do you think he’ll be okay?” Daryl asked, voice shaking a little.

“It’s too soon to tell, I’m honestly surprised that he’s survived this,” he said gently, smiling at the other man, “it’s a miracle he’s still alive, but I’ll do the best I can to at least keep him comfortable.”

Daryl seemed at least a little placated, and smiled back, watching Caleb as he continued to look his brother over, moving his attention to his broken arm. He unwrapped the limb and removed the splint, feeling the limb gently and inspecting the break. A few seconds of manipulating the limb found it had been set wrong, and he pursed his lips again, saddened by the fact that this man had been put through so much pain. He dreaded what else he could possibly find, fears confirmed when he noticed that the limb sagged a little when he tested Merle’s shoulder, finding it dislocated.

“This needs to be re-set,” he said, looking to the younger Dixon, “and his shoulder is dislocated too.”

Daryl nodded, lips pursing, and Caleb manipulated Merle’s arm for a few moments before he was pulling it in a certain way and setting it properly with a snap. He retrieved splint material from his kit, setting to conforming it to Merle’s arm from wrist to elbow as he turned to the other two men.

“Do you have any warm spare clothing?” he asked, “something with fleece or down that you don’t mind me cutting up?”

“I’ll ask the others” Rick said before stepping out of the cell, his footsteps reverberating through the cell block as he went to find the others.

Caleb moved to set Merle’s shoulder back in place as they waited, rolling the joint and getting a feel for its movement before he was relocating the limb with a pop. He turned his attention to Merle’s fingers, unwrapping them briefly, cleaning them with rubbing alcohol and checking the stitches before he was wrapping them again loosely.

Rick returned with Beth in tow and she handed one of her fleecy jackets over to Caleb, smiling at Daryl as he gave her thanks and letting her eyes roam over Merle’s form, before she was wishing them all the best and leaving the cell, heading to the common room to re-join the others. Caleb cut the jacket up and used it as padding for the splint, settling the splint in place before he was wrapping it with bandages from elbow to wrist, binding it to the limb. Next, he fashioned a sling out of a triangle bandage, tying a knot at one end and settling Merle’s arm inside before he was tying it around his neck, placing some padding under the knot at his neck. He made a second sling and wrapped it around Merle’s torso, settling it around his shoulder and tying the knot under the armpit of his good arm, effectively disabling the limb.

“Okay, his arm is set and his shoulder is back in place,” he said with a sigh, sitting back in the chair, “the splint should keep the broken arm and the shoulder in place while he heals.”

“Thank you, Caleb” Daryl said, reaching over and stroking Merle’s forehead, eyes firmly fixed on Merle’s face.

“Let’s lie him back down, I’m done for now and we need to let him rest,” Caleb said, “we’ll need to keep him warm and hydrated as he heals.”

Daryl nodded and settled his brother back down, adjusting his pillows and pulling his sheets up over him, tucking them around Merle’s torso gently.

“I notice that he has a cannula in his arm,” Caleb said, “what have you been using that for?”

“I’ve been giving him blood as often as I can,” Daryl said, “we wanted to make an IV but we don’t have the supplies.”

Caleb moved to pinch the skin on the back of Merle’s hand, watching how long it took to settle back to its usual place, and nodded, glancing at Merle’s ribs before he was turning back to the younger Dixon.

“He’s very dehydrated and well on his way to becoming malnourished. He’s definitely going to need an IV ASAP,” Doctor S said, “I’ll make some IV fluid up for him now, and I should have everything I need for a few days, but we’ll need more very, very soon.”

Daryl nodded, biting at his thumb, his eyes flicking to Rick.

“We’ll send some people on a supply run tomorrow,” Rick said softly from his place at the door, “just write down what you need and we’ll try to get it.”

“Thank you, I’ll jot down a list,” he said, lifting Merle’s eyelids gently and shining a light into his eyes to check his pupils’ response, “he’s obviously a very hardy man. He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

“He is…” Daryl agreed with a fond smile.

Doctor S smiled back and started to prepare an IV bag from the ingredients he had in his kit with Daryl’s help, hanging the bag at the head of the cot and letting it settle as he checked Merle’s cannula. Caleb flushed the line with saline before hooking the IV bag up to the cannula in Merle’s arm, starting the flow and filling Merle’s veins with saline and much needed nutrients.

“I want to put him on some form of pain killers,” Caleb added, “he’s going to be in _a lot_ of pain if he wakes up.”

Daryl pursed his lips, looking at Rick briefly before his eyes were finding Caleb’s again.

“He’s a recovering drug addict… he was addicted to pain killers and meth and god knows what else for a long time,” Daryl said, “I don’t know if he’ll be able to handle taking pain killers without relapsing.”

“I can definitely give him something non-addictive,” Caleb reassured, “but they’re not nearly as strong, so he’s going to be in a fair amount of pain.”

Daryl’s face crumpled at the thought of Merle suffering, at the thought of the pain he must have been in before they’d found him, the pain he must have endured as he’d been beaten and shot.

“What do you suggest?” Daryl asked quietly, “what’s best for him right now?”

“I suggest the strong painkillers, he’ll be much more comfortable,” Caleb said, settling a hand on his shoulder, “as he heals I’ll wean him off of the stronger painkillers and onto something non-addictive.”

Daryl mulled it over before nodding, and watched as Caleb retrieved a vial of morphine from his kit, drawing a dose of it into a syringe before injecting it into Merle’s IV line. Merle’s breathing changed seconds later, his muscles relaxing, and Daryl’s heart raced, his eyes going wide with worry.

“Is that bad?” Daryl asked.

“No, that’s good, that’s very good,” Caleb said, “it sounds like he can breathe more easily now.”

Daryl listened, wondering at the way Merle’s breathing had changed, now a smooth, steady in and out. Caleb put the morphine away, and Daryl eyed the other man’s medical bag curiously as he rummaged through it and brought another kit out.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s a catheter kit,” Caleb said, smiling sympathetically, and Daryl’s eyes widened before he winced, “we don’t know how long he will be unconscious for and this IV will be hydrating him. It has to go somewhere.”

Daryl reluctantly agreed, knowing that it was necessary, setting his eyes firmly on Merle’s face and taking his hand instinctively to try and comfort him, holding it as Caleb worked, hearing the rustle of clothes, blankets and sterile cloth. Hearing the snap of gloves, the rip of an alcohol wipe and a lubrication packet being pulled open, the sound of latex against flesh and the slick slide of the tube as Caleb manipulated it into Merle’s bladder, air as he inflated the balloon, the stick of tape as he taped the tube to Merle’s thigh, then the rustle of blankets as Merle was covered again.

“I’ve done all I can for now, now all we can do is wait to see if he improves,” Caleb said once he was done, and started to pack his medical kit away, “I’ll come and check on him every hour until I’m sure he’s out of trouble.”

“Thank you so much,” Daryl said, “if there’s anything I can do to repay you…”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to help,” Caleb said, smiling at him as he stood to leave, “let me know if there are any changes”.

“I will,” Daryl promised, nodding when Caleb waved goodbye from the door as he left.

Rick smiled at him from the doorway and Daryl smiled back, watching as the other man approached, stepping into the cell and sitting on the opposite cot, clasping his hands together between his knees. They seemed to give twin sighs, overwhelming relief coursing through them now that Merle was being cared for by a doctor and would hopefully be on the mend soon. They sat together for a long while, speaking in low voices as they made easy conversation, before Rick was leaving with a pat to his shoulder and a gentle squeeze to Merle’s shin.

Twenty minutes later, a soft, frail sigh came from the cot, making Daryl perk up excitedly, and he was hovering over his brother in a heartbeat.

“Mer?” he called softly, stroking Merle’s hair gently, “I’m here, brother.”

Merle made a noise, eyelids fluttering and breath whuffling out of him quietly, but he didn’t wake, and Daryl smiled at his slack face.

“Rest all you need, Mer…” he said quietly, settling into the cot beside his brother without hesitation, “I’ll be right here when you wake up…”


	6. Family

Caleb returned an hour later as promised, smiling at the younger Dixon before he was checking how much solution was left in Merle’s IV bag and making sure that the cannula in Merle’s arm was still in place. He checked Merle over, listening to his heart and lungs before he checked his response to light, shining a torch in his eyes one by one and watching his pupils constrict, and then pinched the back of Merle’s hand, noticing a vast improvement in his hydration, and nodded his approval at Merle’s recovery.

He hooked Daryl up to give Merle more blood once the IV bag was finished, and after he’d left, Daryl settled into the cot with his brother, curling around him and propping himself up on his side so he could speak quietly to him. Caleb returned not long after, unhooking Daryl from Merle’s line and hooking up another IV bag, checking Merle over briefly before he was leaving again and letting Daryl continue his story.

Caleb came to check on Merle like clockwork between setting up his cell and speaking to the others as he got himself situated, and over the course of the next few hours Merle’s condition had improved immensely. His heartbeat was stronger and more regular, his breathing less raspy, coming in deeper inhales and exhales, and his pallor had gone from a pale, sickly white almost back to his normal colouring, much to Daryl’s relief and joy.

\--

A few hours later someone rapped on the bars to the brothers’ cell, and Daryl called them inside and sat up to receive them, smiling when the curtain shifted aside to reveal Andrea.

“Hey, can I come in?” she asked, and Daryl nodded, gesturing for her to enter the cell.

She stood at the end of the cot, peering over at Merle’s unconscious form and smiling at the gentle hold Daryl had on his hand, at the steady motion of his thumb over Merle’s knuckles, carefully avoiding the last two injured digits.

“He ain’t woken up yet, but he likes company,” Daryl said, smiling fondly, “I like to think he can hear me, but I dunno...”

She sighed and took a better look at the older Dixon, saw his face, battered and bruised, littered with cuts like her own, before her eyes were tracking south and cataloguing the rest of his injuries.

“God, he’s suffered…” she said, shaking her head as her eyes became wet with tears.

She hesitated for a second before she shifted closer and sat on the cot beside Merle’s thigh, and Daryl was stunned when she reached over to cup his face in a palm, stroking his cheek gently with a thumb as she looked at his face. No-one had ever touched Merle of their own volition; no-one had ever touched him just to touch him except for Daryl.

“He did it to protect me,” Daryl said, thumb caressing Merle’s knuckles, “he’s always been like this.”

“He’s a good brother,” she said as she withdrew, smiling and wiping her tears away, and it struck Daryl that it was the first time that anyone but him had ever said that about Merle, “he loves you so much.”

“He does… he always has, fiercely,” Daryl said, “I just wish that the others could see it.”

“I think they see it now. I don’t see how they couldn’t,” she said, “he almost sacrificed his life for you.”

Daryl nodded, swallowing, and looked at his brother’s face, finding that the sight of him calmed him and eased his mind. He felt the need to touch him, to make sure he was alive, and cupped Merle’s neck in a palm, finding it sleep-warm, feeling the thrum of his pulse just below the surface, and he smiled.

“I wanted to give you this,” Andrea said, and he turned to look at her, finding her holding a book out for him to take, “Hershel told me that he likes to read. I thought he might like it if you read to him.”

His heart fluttered at the thought and he took the book from her with a smile, reading the back quickly before he was setting it on the chair between their cots to pick up again later.

“Thanks Andrea,” he said, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

She stayed for a while and they chatted, catching up on their lives after the farm, sharing stories about the prison and Woodbury, and Daryl found that he enjoyed her company thoroughly. Eventually she stood to leave, squeezing one of Merle’s shins gently as she did so, and Daryl smiled up at her.

“If you need anything, let me know,” she said, returning his smile before she leant over to stroke Merle’s cheek gently, “I’m here for both of you if you need me.”

All he could do was nod his thanks, his heart swelling with joy in his chest, and he squeezed Merle’s hand affectionately as she left, her footsteps disappearing down the gangway.

\--

A few hours later Carol brought Daryl lunch, and he sat up to receive her, smiling up at her and giving her his thanks as he extracted himself from Merle’s side, took the meal and moved to sit on the opposite cot as he dug in. Daryl was surprised when she moved to touch him, the second person today to touch Merle just because they wanted to, leaning over and cupping Merle’s face gently, a thumb stroking his cheekbone delicately. He smiled at her when she turned to look at him, and she smiled back.

“He’s looking _so_ much better,” she said, “there’s colour in his face now.”

Daryl nodded his agreement and smiled around his mouthful, watching as she shifted her hand to card her fingers through Merle’s hair, and they both startled a little when Merle hummed softly, his brow raising. Daryl put his food down and moved to kneel on Merle’s cot, cupping the side of Merle’s neck with one hand and taking Merle’s hand with the other, careful of his fingers.

“Mer?” he called, and Merle hummed again, the noise so soft it was nearly imperceptible.

There was silence for a few beats, and then Merle’s face went lax again, and Daryl and Carol looked at each other, thrilled that Merle was now showing signs of life other than breathing. Daryl stroked his thumb along Merle’s jaw affectionately for a few moments, smiling at his brother’s face, before he was withdrawing again and returning to his food. Carol continued to sit on the opposite cot with Merle as Daryl ate, her fingers stroking Merle’s hair as she and Daryl spoke.

Daryl finished his lunch, sighing and thanking her for the meal and her company, and Carol gave a parting stroke to Merle’s forehead before she was making to take Daryl’s plate from him and leave the cell. Daryl realised that in all of the events that had happened in the last day and a half that no-one had cleaned Merle’s face, that everyone had been too preoccupied with keeping him and themselves alive to give it any mind, and decided to take it upon himself to clean Merle up.

“Hey Carol?” he called as she reached the door, and she turned to look at him, “could you bring me some water and a cloth? I want to clean him up a bit.”

“Absolutely,” she said with a smile, her eyes going soft as he sat on the cot with his brother once more, and he nodded his thanks, “I’ll be right back.”

She left and then returned five minutes later with a bucket of warm water and a cloth, setting the water on the floor beside Merle’s cot and handing Daryl the cloth, and Daryl thanked her, smiling up at her and returning her friendly goodbye as she left.

He sighed, eyes tracking over Merle’s face for a few moments, just taking him in, before he was setting in to clean Merle up, dipping the cloth in the water, wringing it out and starting to wipe the blood off of Merle’s face. It was therapeutic in a way, sitting quietly and wiping Merle’s face clean, caring for him, and Daryl realised that it would be like this for a long while as Merle healed. Merle would need help eating and walking, would need help in doing everyday tasks, and Daryl knew that Merle wouldn’t like it one bit.

Merle was stubborn and fiercely independent, had been forced to grow up far, _far_ too quickly, and Daryl knew that he’d be a handful until he settled and accepted that he needed help, but he found he didn’t mind the thought at all; if anyone were suited to the task it’d be him.

Finally, Merle’s face was clean, littered with healing cuts and bruises but cleaned of blood and dirt, and Daryl smiled, eyes flicking over Merle’s features as he rinsed the cloth off again and wrung it out. He cleaned Merle’s neck and under his jaw, then his collarbones, clearing the skin there of dirt and blood too before he deemed his work done, setting the water and cloth aside. He settled in beside Merle again, settling his blankets over him and making sure he was being kept warm before he curled up around him, pausing for a moment before he was retrieving the book that Andrea had given him and starting to read to Merle quietly.

\-- 

Nearly a week passed by in a blur, Merle remained unconscious and Daryl hardly left his side, didn’t do much else other than watch over his brother and read to him. Caleb replaced the IV bags as Merle needed, making sure that Merle was getting the fluids and nutrients his healing body needed, and checked the older Dixon’s vital signs every few hours. Daryl gave Merle blood as often as Doctor S deemed necessary, and Merle’s pallor slowly improved, his pulse becoming stronger and his breathing losing its raspy edge as Merle began to heal.

Daryl spent most of his time with him, just speaking softly to him, reading books to him or recounting stories from their childhood, a wistful, affectionate smile spreading over his features when Merle would seem to be listening despite his unconsciousness. He read to him, knowing of Merle’s fondness for books of any kind, and read well into the night, curled loosely around Merle’s form, keeping him warm and safe. He maintained as much physical contact as he could and kept talking to his brother, hoping that Merle could feel and hear him through the fog of his unconscious brain.

Caleb replaced Merle’s cannula on the second day, moving it to another spot in his arm when the initial site showed signs of irritation, wiping the new site with an alcohol wipe, inserting a fresh cannula and securing it with a strip, making sure that it was secure and sending a steady flow of IV solution through Merle’s veins before he was taping the tube to Merle’s arm. By the end of the day pink had returned to Merle’s face, tinging his cheeks and ears, and Daryl couldn’t help but run his fingertips over the colour, wondering that Merle was still alive.

They had a scare on the third day when in the morning Merle had another seizure, very mild and very short lived, and Caleb jotted it down in a notepad, starting a log in case the seizures continued, but deemed that Merle was still recovering well regardless. It was scary nonetheless, and sent Daryl into a bit of panic, leading him to stay in the cot with Merle for the entire day, watching him carefully and looking after him almost frenziedly, keeping his blankets tucked around him and fluffing his pillows every so often. He read to him, pressed firmly against his side, holding his hand and stroking his knuckles with his thumb, wanting to keep as much physical contact with Merle as possible.

In the days after the seizure Andrea started to hang around the cell more, keeping Daryl company and trying to take his mind off of his injured brother, bringing him another book to read when he finished the first, her heart melting when he read the title to his brother excitedly. Michonne started to take Andrea’s lead, and curiously, started to hover around the older Dixon as well, then Milton followed suit, and the three of them began to flit around, not straying far, eager to help Daryl, to bring water or food or blankets to him, to keep him watered, and fed, and both he and Merle warm.

Hershel, Carol and Rick had already been checking on Merle and Daryl regularly, not enough to be intrusive or overbearing, but enough for Daryl to notice and be eternally grateful for, and they all started to take turns in sitting by Merle’s side and making sure that both of the brothers were okay. Carl, Beth and Maggie, then finally Glenn started to do the same, sitting in the cell with Daryl and chatting with him and watching over Merle on the rare occasion that Daryl left the cell, and slowly they all fell into an unspoken routine. It came as easy as breathing to them, watching over he and his brother, and it still left him a little breathless that they cared so much.

Daryl realised belatedly that this is what family was, and that Merle had always done things like this to some degree too, in his own uncertain way, and it broke his heart that he’d never realised it, that he’d never realised just how much Merle cared for him. Merle had taken beatings for him, had looked after him when he was sick, had been at his side through thick and thin, had picked him up when times were hard, had taught him everything he knew about hunting and cooking and survival. Merle had practically raised him, as best he could, and had always tried his damndest to do right by him.

The Merle he knew in private was nothing like he was in public and, upon reflection, Daryl was starting to realise that it was a persona that Merle put on to protect himself, that he’d been doing it for decades now and likely no longer knew who he was or how to express himself in a healthy way, that he didn’t know how to express love. They’d had it beaten into them very early on that caring was weakness, that love was weakness, and that weakness made you worthless, and as much as Merle ribbed on him for it for never being able to follow that ideation Merle had never, ever held him to it.

It was obvious to him now that Merle had tried to break the cycle of abuse, had tried hard to protect him from the worst of it, and Daryl vowed help Merle to heal, to make sure that Merle knew that he was loved and cherished from now on.


	7. Rousing

Day broke, five days after they’d found Merle, and Daryl woke to Merle’s warmth against his side just like he had every morning for the last few days, and breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of his brother. Merle had always had an earthy, piny smell, reminiscent of the depths of the forest and a little of sage, and it was one of the things that had always calmed Daryl down completely. Merle’s warmth and scent were things that Daryl had always taken comfort in, things he cherished due to the rarity of Merle allowing him to be close enough to him for Daryl to feel and smell. Whenever Merle had been sent to juvie Daryl had slept in his bed on particularly bad nights, taking refuge in and drawing comfort from Merle’s smell, and if Merle had ever noticed, he’d never mentioned it.

When everything had gone to shit and the world had ended, they’d shared a tent like they always had when they went camping or hunting, and during the cold winter months they’d pushed their cots together to share warmth. Most of his fondest memories involved he and Merle, side by side, taking on the world together. He supposed that there was no time like now to indulge himself and enjoy this contact while he could, to take in Merle’s smell and commit it to memory, because there was no telling if he’d even be alive in the coming day, or even hour. He wiped away the tears that spilled at that thought and shook himself off, refusing to give in to the thought, and instead shifted a little, propping himself up on an elbow to take in his brother’s features, wanting to commit them to memory too.

He took the quiet moment to look at Merle’s face in the morning light, taking in his weathered features as if for the first time, and he realised that it genuinely was probably the first time he’d ever taken the time to inspect Merle’s face in detail. He’d never truly examined Merle’s face before, hadn’t been able to look at Merle for too long without being snapped at, without striking some self-conscious nerve in Merle, and he was struck by how _old_ he looked, worn and haggard and tired. Despite his age and the toll the drugs had taken on his body and mind, Merle was a handsome man when he wasn’t snarling at people or sneering like a maniac.

He’d been so deep in thought, so entranced by Merle’s features, that his heart skipped a beat when he realised that Merle’s eyes were open, only a sliver of azure visible, sparkling faintly with mirth.

He gave an overjoyed huff and smiled broadly at his brother, breathing a relieved sigh of his name as he reached out and cupped the side of his neck. Merle smiled back faintly, reaching out weakly and brushing his fingertips over Daryl’s ribs, wincing a little as his truncated fingers flared in pain. Daryl threw caution to the wind, drawing Merle into a tender and relieved, albeit careful hug, arms feeding underneath his shoulders and squeezing him to his chest gently. Merle huffed a surprised noise and jolted a little in surprise, fingers pressing to his chest weakly, and Daryl sat up and moved back just enough to look at him, his fingers tracing up and down Merle’s sides in affectionate whorls. Merle looked resolutely away for a few seconds, fidgeting self-consciously with Daryl’s shirt, then eyed him uncertainly for a long while before smiling shyly and joining their fingers, his face flushed with uncertain affection.

Merle struggled with affection, and it was obvious that he didn’t know how to process it sometimes, but Daryl had always waited for him patiently, knowing Merle would get there eventually, that his love for him would win out in the end. Merle was smiling tiredly at him, the blue of his eyes dull with exhaustion and pain, and Daryl was enamoured by those irises, had hoped every minute of every day since Merle had been shot that he’d see them again. He shifted to cup Merle’s face in his free hand and stroked Merle’s cheekbone with his thumb, his eyes roving over his brother’s face, feeling an overwhelming urge to crawl over him, to cover him with his body, to protect him from the outside world and never let anyone hurt him ever again. He stopped and withdrew when Merle shifted his head away weakly, having had enough of the contact, respecting Merle’s need for space.

“M’so glad you’re alive, Mer…” Daryl said quietly, “how’re you feelin’?”

“Like shit, baby brother” Merle rasped weakly, managing a laugh through his nose before he was starting to cough.

Daryl rubbed soothingly at Merle’s chest and ribs, waiting for the coughing to stop, and Merle finally stopped, melting back into the pillows tiredly. He looked down at himself, down at his battered and scarred body, touching the gauze gently as he inspected the state of his chest, before finding his stump fingers and eyeing them curiously. His eyes roamed to his other side, over his bandaged arm and his shoulder, lips pursing at the way the limb was bound tight to his body, immobilised. Everything hurt, but he was alive and Daryl was safe, and that was all that mattered. He found Daryl’s face, eyes tracking over his features, and he felt his heart warming at the welcome sight of him. He was glad that Daryl was here with him.

“That was a stupid thing you did, Mer…” Daryl said, pursing his lips so that Merle knew that he was serious, “brave… courageous… but stupid.”

Merle just smiled at him, Daryl’s expression apparently having had no effect on him, and Daryl glared, wanting to open his mouth and yell at him, but stopped, disarmed by the softness of Merle’s expression. By just how tired he looked. He startled when Merle reached up and cupped his face in his hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb, before smiling and covering the hand with his own, all transgressions forgiven, just like that.

“M’sorry, baby brother, I just wanted to keep you safe…” Merle breathed, and Daryl sighed and shook his head light heartedly, nuzzling Merle’s palm.

Merle maintained the contact for a minute before he was forced to withdraw, his arm quivering with exhaustion, and sighed, blinking up at him tiredly. He looked small and fragile in a way Daryl would never in a million years have imagined he’d look, and Daryl gave in to his urge to protect, dialling it back at the last second, and climbed onto the cot beside his brother instead of crawling over him, settling in against his side carefully. He pressed in close, enveloping Merle in his arms, pulling him closer and settling him against his chest, apologising when Merle winced and hissed as the motion caused his broken arm to ache and his chest to burn.

They lay together for a while, the intimacy of it awkward and a little uncomfortable, alien to them, and Daryl could feel Merle’s tension, could feel him rejecting the contact instinctively, fighting the urge to squirm away. Merle had always been averse to physical contact, had always struggled to accept and enjoy it, and Daryl finally recognised his reluctance as fear, and it broke his heart. He tried to withdraw, wanting to save Merle the energy of fighting his aversion, but Merle’s fingers wrapped around his wrist in a silent request to stay, so Daryl settled in again, smiling into Merle’s hair.

The longer they lay together, the more Merle relaxed, and finally, finally they settled, Merle going boneless against his brother, sighing contentedly as he snuggled into his side as best he could on his back. There was a certain release to Merle’s bonelessness, and Daryl felt him shudder as decades of being starved of touch came to the surface and melted away into something warm. He drew away just enough to look at Merle’s face and found something in his expression, in his eyes when they met, that made his chest go tight, his heart fluttering; it was something dazed and insightful, like Merle was finally realising just how good casual contact felt.

They stayed like that for a long while, just considering each other silently, matching eyes dancing over each other’s faces. Merle had never allowed this before, had always become self-conscious when Daryl had stared at his face, and Daryl was glad that Merle was allowing it now. He revelled in the way Merle’s face flitted through micro expressions, finding them familiar yet so unfamiliar at the same time, having never really taken stock of them before, so he tried to commit each to memory.

He watched Merle blink up at him tiredly, his healing body sapping him of all energy, and stayed for a while, watching over him, before he was making to leave, smiling at the way Merle’s brow creased and his fingers twitched in his direction, brushing his forearm, too weak to grasp like Merle wanted.

“M’just gonna let the others know you’re awake,” he said, reaching to brush a hand through Merle’s hair gently, “I’ll be right back, Mer…”

Merle nodded and swallowed, eyes fluttering shut at the contact, and Daryl climbed out of the cot and made his way out of the cell to find the others in the common room. They were sitting at one of the benches, conversating about the day and suggesting ways to improve the prison and make it safer. They looked up at him when he approached, eyes imploring and kind and supportive, and it never ceased to make his heart flutter to realise that they saw him as family. 

“Merle’s awake” he breathed, smiling giddily, and the others lit up at the news, making relieved noises, their eyes glinting ecstatically.

“Thank God, let me come upstairs and see him. Maggie, can you please find Caleb?” Rick asked, before he was following the younger Dixon up to the brothers’ shared cell.

When they reached the cell they found Merle looking up at the window above the cots, his eyes tracking the light that filtered in through the bars and bathed the cell in a soft glow. He shifted to look at them when he heard their footsteps, the motion sluggish and uncoordinated, but he was alive and awake, and that was all that mattered.

“Good morning, Merle,” Rick said brightly, and Merle smiled faintly, blinking tiredly up at him, “it’s good to see you awake.”

“Mornin’,” Merle rasped weakly, wincing as pain seared through him, and Daryl was by his side immediately, “I think I’d rather still be asleep, to be honest.”

“How’s your pain?” Rick asked.

Merle didn’t reply, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as a worse wave of pain hit, and Rick waited for it to pass, watching with some amusement and surprise as Merle took his brother’s hand and squeezed it gently until the pain passed. Doctor S entered the room, smiling broadly at Merle before he was moving closer.

“Hello, Merle” he greeted.

“Hey, Doctor S,” Merle said in return, smiling, and Daryl realised that they knew each other from Woodbury, “s’nice t’see ya again.”

“Likewise. I’m just going to check your vitals and such” Doctor S said, and Merle nodded weakly, shifting to give him better access to his body with Daryl’s help.

Merle shivered at the icy temperature of the stethoscope drum when Caleb pressed it to his chest, and Caleb apologised and withdrew, warming it between his palms for a few more moments before he was setting it against Merle’s chest again.

“Breathe in for me?” he asked, and Merle did as he asked, “breathe out… nice and slow.”

Caleb continued to listen to Merle’s chest, pausing when Merle stopped and held a breath, face turned away and contorted in agony, teeth gritted, before his breaths came in pained pants. Daryl set a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and Merle covered his hand with his own.

“How is the pain on a scale of one to ten?” Caleb asked.

“Nine… goin’ on ten…” Merle gritted out, “s’like my chest has a fuckin’ fire poker through it.”

Caleb was immediately moving to his kit and retrieving morphine, drawing a dose from the vial and injecting it through Merle’s IV line. The change was nearly immediate, and Daryl smiled when Merle relaxed, almost going boneless as he groaned softly with immense relief, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Thank you,” Merle muttered.

Caleb nodded, smiling, and made to put the vial away. Merle eyed the vial, and Daryl’s heart sank, then soared with pride when Merle spoke.

“I shouldn’t be taking morphine,” Merle said, “I can’t keep taking drugs.”

“I’ll wean you to smaller doses, then onto other pain killers as you heal,” Caleb said, “for now it’s in your best interests to remain as pain-free as possible.”

“We’ll help you, Mer…” Daryl reassured, and Merle smiled at him.

“Okay,” Merle sighed in agreement, eyes going half-mast as he relaxed into the sheets, pain seeming to seep from him completely, “thank you...”

Caleb continued his examination, listening to Merle’s lungs and heart, pressing the diaphragm of his stethoscope to different parts of Merle’s chest and abdomen. He seemed satisfied with what he heard, and sat back a little, checking Merle’s cannula and IV bag as well as his drainage bag. Merle’s eyes went wide upon noticing the bag, and looked away towards the wall for a moment, face tinging red as he realised what it meant.

“We had to catheterise you, sorry,” Caleb said softly, when Merle had regained his composure, “you’ve been out for nearly a week.”

Merle nodded his understanding, shifting uncomfortably now that he was aware that there was a catheter inside him.

“Can we take it out?” he asked, face scrunching uncomfortably, “m’awake now.”

“Certainly,” Caleb said, and Merle sighed in relief, “just don’t be in and out of bed too much.”

Rick left the room, Daryl making to follow until Merle caught his hand and looked at him, asking him without words to stay for support, and he did so without hesitation, sitting on the cot beside him and holding his attention while Caleb removed the catheter. Daryl spoke to him to distract him, filling him in briefly with what had happened over the last week, with how they’d scared the Governor and his little army off, how they’d found them dead when they’d gone after him, how they’d brought the remaining Woodbury citizens back to the prison. Finally, the catheter was removed and Merle sighed in relief, and Caleb left the cell to dispose of the catheter and drainage bag, leaving the brothers alone for a while.

“I’ll tell you about what happened while you were out in more detail later…” Daryl promised.

Merle smiled weakly, his eyes tired and his complexion a little pale, and Daryl returned the smile, squeezing Merle’s hand intermittently until they heard footsteps approaching. Caleb and Rick entered the room, and Daryl laid a hand on Merle’s arm instead as they approached, knowing that Merle wouldn’t want to have such displays of affection blatantly on show.

“I’m going to give you a regime of exercises and stretches you need to do,” Caleb said, “I’m sure Daryl won’t mind helping you.”

Daryl smiled and nodded his head, letting Merle know that he would be there for him throughout his recovery and beyond, and Merle smiled back gratefully.

“Just tell me what to do n’I’ll do it, doc” Merle said.

“Firstly, you’re going to need to do finger exercises to maintain range-of-motion in your fingers,” Caleb said, “just opening and closing your fist gently, enough to remind them that they’re still useful.”

Merle nodded, opening and closing his fist slowly, testing its digits, and Caleb nodded approvingly.

“You’re also going to have to do chest exercises, I’m afraid,” he said, “it’ll be painful, but your recovery will much better and faster if you keep on top of it.”

“Okay” Merle said softly. 

“Breathing exercises are the most important thing for you to do. When you’re awake, every hour I want you to take a deep breath, hold it, and then give a strong, deep cough, and I want you to do that ten times in a row,” Caleb said, “you need to spit anything you cough up into a tissue or a rag and dispose of it, don’t swallow it.”

Merle nodded thoughtfully, listening carefully, his fingers tracing the gauze on his chest, and Caleb continued, retrieving the pillow from Daryl’s cot to press it to Merle’s chest and then a cloth to press into Merle’s hand.

“Hold a pillow against your chest when you do it, it’ll help you brace your chest and your ribs and it’ll cause you less pain,” Caleb said, “can you do that for me now?”

Merle held the pillow to his chest with his good elbow and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before coughing into the cloth in his hand, and Daryl’s face crumpled as he went into a coughing fit; rough, painful, hacking breaths coming from him.

“Okay, we will need to sit you more upright for those exercises” Caleb said after it had passed, smiling sympathetically.

Merle nodded, gasping for air, and Daryl helped him up, propping him up further, and his breathing improved slowly.

“Christ” Merle panted finally, still catching his breath.

He continued with the exercises, coughing into the cloth and spitting up blood and phlegm, finishing his tenth set and lying back, exhausted.

“Good, well done,” Caleb said, “you will need to do that every hour, Merle.”

Merle nodded, his eyes sliding shut tiredly.

“Can the needle come out?” Merle asked, lifting his good arm a scant inch off the cot before it was dropping back onto the sheets with a soft thud.

“Absolutely,” Caleb said, “once this IV bag is empty I’ll take it out.”

Merle glanced up at the IV bag, sighing upon finding it nearly empty, and Daryl patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“Are you hungry?” Rick asked, “we’re going to dish up breakfast soon. I can bring some up for you both.”

“Starving…” Merle said softly and nodded, “yes, please.”

Rick nodded in return and smiled, reaching over tentatively before he patted Merle’s shin friendlily, making Merle balk a little, and Daryl smiled, his eyes glinting amusedly as Rick withdrew and stood to leave.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Merle,” Rick said, “we were all worried about you.”

Merle’s skin flushed at the thought of people caring about him, his face falling and his eyes dropping to the sheets, and Daryl gave an apologetic half smile to the ex-sheriff as he sat at Merle’s side on the cot.

“If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask…” Rick concluded, “we’re all here for you. Both of you.”

“Thanks, Rick” Daryl said warmly, and Merle nodded his agreement but couldn’t look at him, his fingers finding a thread and starting to pull at it.

IV bag now empty, Caleb removed the cannula, pressing a cotton ball to the site and taping it down before he and Rick left the cell, their footsteps receding as they walked down the gangway, leaving the brothers alone once more. Daryl could feel Merle’s inner turmoil, could feel his tension.

“Mer, wha’s wrong?” Daryl asked voice soft, “Mer, look at me…”

Merle looked at him, meeting his eyes, and Daryl was rendered a little breathless at the pain and confusion in his eyes.

“What happened?” Merle asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and must have realised that Daryl didn’t understand because he continued, frustrated, “why do they care all of a sudden?”

Daryl was dumbfounded.

“You nearly _died_ , Merle…” Daryl said, voice shaking, distress spreading over his features, “you nearly died sacrificing yourself to keep me safe.”

Merle pursed his lips and looked away, but Daryl took his face in his hands gently and moved his head to look at him, and Merle wrapped his remaining fingers around one of his wrists.

“They’ve been helping me and making sure you’re okay,” Daryl said, “they were so relieved when I told them you’d woken up.”

Merle held his gaze with his own, their matching irises boring into one another, and Daryl’s heart swelled in sympathy when Merle’s bottom lip quivered.

“They’re finally seeing the you that I see,” Daryl continued, “please don’t push them away.”

“I’ll try…” Merle said after what felt like an eternity, his voice soft and unsure.

Merle hazarded a smile, and Daryl revelled in the way Merle’s cheeks felt contorting under his palms, and returned the gesture easily. He pressed a kiss to Merle’s forehead, feeling his heart flutter at the way Merle’s breath shook and his fingers flexed around his wrist, and then relinquished Merle’s face and shifted in close, taking his brother into his arms gently.


	8. Bathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's Melbourne International Games Week this week and I totally spaced about uploading this last night! Hope you enjoy! :)

Rick brought them breakfast and Merle thanked him, trying to meet his eyes and smile, succeeding for the most part until he had to look away, uncomfortable with the relief and budding affection he found in Rick’s eyes. The other man gave them their bowls and then left with a kind farewell and a brief pat to each brother’s shoulder before leaving the brothers alone once more to eat by themselves. Daryl squeezed Merle’s shoulder with a smile, eyes glittering affectionately, and Merle smiled back, cheeks flushing a little.

Merle was exhausted to the bone, could only manage to take a few mouthfuls before he was too weak to keep bringing the spoon to his mouth, and he was stunned when Daryl took his bowl from him wordlessly, shifting to sit closer so he could feed him. He hesitated for a moment, blinking at the spoonful of oatmeal that Daryl proffered to him, before he leant forward and took a bite, shoving his pride aside and letting Daryl help him. Daryl seemed surprised that he’d agreed without a fight and gave a dazzling smile, eating a little of his own oatmeal before scooping another spoonful from Merle’s bowl and offering him more.

They talked now and then between mouthfuls of oatmeal, though Merle listened more than he spoke, a strange change to the norm that was lost on neither of them. It came as easy as breathing, just talking to each other about nothing in particular or enjoying easy silence; they’d always been able to just be company to each other, had never needed to fill silence with words. When they’d gone camping they’d often gone hours without talking, had just sat in each other’s company, looking into the campfire or up at the sky.

They finished their food and Merle relaxed into the pillows behind him with a sigh, eyes drifting shut for a few moments before they were opening again to consider his brother’s face. Daryl smiled at him affectionately and moved to set both bowls on the floor near the cell door so he could take them out later or one of the others could take them away.

He turned back to face his brother, eyes drifting over him silently, and he watched Merle look around the cell, eyes drifting over the walls and ceiling briefly before they were settling on him again.

“This your cell?” Merle asked.

“Yeah, we brought you here after the attack on the prison,” he replied, “I wanted you in here so you’d be close by. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you.”

Merle’s skin flushed pink and he nodded, eyes skittering to the sheets as he started to pick at them, and Daryl smiled at his brother’s reaction to his affections. Merle’s face scrunched up and Daryl realised a moment later why when Merle sniffed himself and the expression stuck for another few seconds. Merle hadn’t washed since before the shootout with the Governor, had nearly a week-old film of grime and sweat and blood on his skin, and was beginning to smell, though Daryl didn’t mind.

“Y’wanna wash up?” Daryl asked.

Merle mulled it over, eyes drifting over his broken arm and immobilised shoulder, then sighed and nodded, and Daryl realised that it was setting in now just how much he would need assistance with everyday tasks.

“I’ll be back” he said softly, cupping Merle’s neck in a palm before he was leaving the cell, taking their empty bowls with him.

He made his way into the common room and to the kitchenette where Beth and Carol were washing up, and nodded his thanks as he handed he and Merle’s bowls over.

“How is he?” Beth asked, her eyes lighting up.

“Good, he seems to be doing alright,” he said, “he’s tired and in a lot of pain, but he’s alive…”

“That’s great, Daryl. Can I come and see him later?” Carol asked.

“I don’t know if he’ll be up to having visitors, but I’ll let you know” he said softly, smiling his gratitude at them, and they nodded their understanding, smiling kindly.

He went to find Caleb, finding him outside with some of the other Woodbury citizens, and smiled at him as he approached, receiving a broad smile in return.

“Hello, Daryl,” the other man said, “is everything okay? How is Merle doing?”

“Hey, Doctor S. Everything’s fine, thanks,” Daryl said, “he struggled a bit, but he ate all of his breakfast.”

“Good, hopefully he can keep that up! It can be difficult to eat with a chest wound,” the other man replied, “please let me know if he starts to struggle with food.”

“I will, thanks Doctor S,” Daryl promised, nodding, “n’I’ll make sure he’s doin’ his exercises.”

Caleb smiled and nodded.

“I was thinkin’ I could help Merle have a shower n’ get him into some fresh clothes,” Daryl suggested, “now that he’s awake.”

“His wounds can’t be submerged in water,” Caleb said, shaking his head, “but if you’d like you can use a sponge or a cloth. It’d definitely do him some good to feel clean, change the sheets too if you can.”

Daryl nodded his understanding, smiling at the other man and bidding him and the others with him goodbye before he was going to find supplies to help get Merle clean and to replace his sheets. He returned to the cell with a bucket of warm, soapy water, a cloth and a towel and some fresh sheets, and Merle eyed the bucket sullenly.

“Doctor S said you can’t shower, your wounds can’t get wet” he said, smiling lopsidedly, apologetically, “I’ll just help you clean up.”

Merle pursed his lips but nodded all the same, sighing softly.

“You’ll feel better when you’re clean, Mer…” Daryl said.

He dragged the chair in the corner of the cell over, putting the bucket on it and sitting on the cot beside Merle before dropping the cloth in the soapy water. He looked at his brother, watching as Merle’s eyes darted between him and the cell door, and Daryl smiled reassuringly, moving to settle their privacy curtain across the bars before he was returning to Merle’s side.

“Why don’t you do your breathing exercises first?” Daryl suggested.

Merle nodded, sighing, and Daryl smiled, picking up one of the pillows and pressing it to his brother’s chest firmly before he was helping him to sit up a little more to clear his airway. Merle did his exercises, coughing into a cloth and spitting out anything that came up, and once he’d finished ten sets of the exercise he sat back with another tired sigh. Daryl huffed a laugh through his nose and smiled at him, and Merle smiled back, eyes glinting affectionately.

Daryl picked the cloth up and wrung it out before he started to wipe Merle’s face, cleaning the familiar planes with gentle strokes and rinsing his cloth intermittently as he went. Merle’s face was mostly clean, having been washed only a few days prior, but Daryl still gave it the attention he felt that it deserved. Merle avoided his eyes at first, unused to him being so near and with being under such close scrutiny, but slowly he began to look at him, eyes dancing over the planes of his face in return, and Daryl’s heart melted when Merle smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He washed Merle’s neck and collarbones, washing behind his ears and the nape of his neck before he was moving on to the rest of Merle’s body, rinsing and wringing the cloth out as he went. He cleaned Merle’s chest, buffing the cloth over his brother’s skin, careful not to get water on the gauze covering the hole in Merle’s chest, careful not to press too hard or linger too long on the sensitive scars that littered Merle’s front. He set to cleaning Merle’s good arm, careful of the sites where both cannulas had been, taking one look at the other arm before deeming it something to tackle another day.

After a while goosebumps broke out over Merle’s skin and his teeth began to chatter, his healing body struggling to regulate its temperature, and Daryl tried to work as quickly as he could. He cleaned Merle’s back, supporting him with one hand as he leant forward and cleaning his back with the other, taking equal care as he had at Merle’s front to not touch his scars for too long or too roughly, listening to Merle’s breathing carefully and easing off when it picked up in discomfort. His work was short but thorough, and he wished that he could wash Merle’s hair too, but deemed that a job for another day too, when Merle was stronger.

He towelled Merle dry and then handed the cloth to Merle for him to clean his own private parts and lower half, turning away to give Merle some privacy so he could take his pants and underwear off, occupying himself by gathering some fresh clothes for Merle out of their now shared pile of clothes. He picked the warmest clothes he could find, sorting through the pile of clothes and organising it into shirts and pants and socks. Finally, Merle gave a frustrated sigh, making Daryl purse his lips, he knew Merle would struggle but he wanted to give him a chance to do it himself anyway.

“What’s wrong?” he asked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes from the pile of clothes.

“Can’t get my clothes off…” Merle sighed.

“Do you want me to help?” he asked after a few moments of pause.

There was a silence for a few moments, more rustling and huffing breaths as Merle tried again to undress himself, then became frustrated, sighing again, apparently conceding defeat.

“Yes please…” Merle said softly.

Daryl smiled to himself, proud of Merle for realising and accepting that he needed assistance and turned around to help his brother. Merle looked resolutely away from him, cheeks and ears tinged red and face scrunched with discomfort, but Daryl moved closer without a sign of unease, determined to help Merle maintain his dignity.

“S’alright Mer, I want to help you,” he reassured, “if you need _anything_ , jus’ let me know.”

Merle nodded, fingers trembling as he picked at the mattress nervously, the motions becoming more anxious as Daryl’s fingers gripped the hem of his pants. He helped to strip Merle of his clothes and stepped away again, knowing instinctively that Merle needed space as soon as possible, smiling at him and leaving his side once more to set the bucket aside inside the cell door.

He returned to Merle’s side when Merle was finished and helped him to change into a fresh pair of underwear, then pulled trackpants and socks onto his legs and feet before he was pulling the sheets up over Merle’s battered form and tucking them around him to warm him up. He climbed into the cot with Merle, settling in against his side and wrapping an arm around him gently, carefully.

“So, how long was I out for?” Merle asked, eyes dancing over his face.

“Five days,” Daryl said with a sigh, swallowing, “we didn’t know if you’d make it.”

Merle gave an empathetic half smile, patting his knee, and Daryl covered the hand with his own before linking their fingers, enjoying the way Merle’s ears tinted pink.

“What’d you do while I was out?” Merle asked after a few seconds of pause.

“I spent most of my time in here, waiting for you to wake up” Daryl said, chuckling, smiling when Merle chuckled in return.

“How’d you pass the time?” Merle asked.

“I read books to you,” Daryl said, smiling at him fondly, “recounted my favourite memories from when we was kids…”

Merle smiled, his eyes watering a little as he nodded his gratitude, and Daryl knew that he was touched that he knew him so well and loved him so much. Merle started fidgeting again, squirming a little, his face scrunching in discomfort, and Daryl frowned.

“What’s wrong, Mer?” Daryl asked, “what do you need?”

“… I need to use the bathroom…” Merle said, skin flushing.

Merle wasn’t accustomed to asking for help, wasn’t accustomed to expressing his needs, even one-handed he’d managed to dress himself, feed himself, protect himself, like he had his entire life, with only a little obstacle in the way, but right now he could do none of those things. Daryl felt for his brother, he really did, and felt another surge of pride for Merle that he was so easily asking for his help, and he supposed that Merle found it easier to ask him, simply because they’d been through so much together, had seen each other at their best and at ultimate rock bottom and still loved each other fiercely.

Daryl nodded and smiled at him, helping him to pull a shirt on, helping him to swing his legs over the side of the cot, and then helping him to stand on shaky, unsteady legs, looping an arm under the base of his ribcage, and Merle groaned as they stood, pain spiking through him. Daryl let him lean on him as much as he needed, let him fist at his clothes and grit his teeth and curse and complain as much as he wanted. They made their way out of the cell and towards the bathrooms, Merle leaning heavily on his brother and Daryl taking his weight without a complaint.

They returned to the cell once Merle had relieved himself, taking it slow so Merle didn’t over-exert himself, and Daryl sat him down on the chair, brushing a hand through his hair before he was turning his attention to Merle’s cot. He stripped Merle’s sheets, bundling the dirty ones up to take to the laundry room later and fitting clean ones over the mattress before he was helping Merle climb into the cot, propping him up slightly.

He tucked his brother in gently, revelling in the way Merle sighed contentedly, his eyelids drooping tiredly as he settled in.

“Thanks Daryl…” Merle said, his voice an airy rumble.

Daryl smiled, leaning down to give Merle a gentle hug, smile broadening at Merle’s huffing breath and the way his skin heated up, smile broadening even further when Merle returned the hug, squeezing him back. They sat there for a while in each other’s embrace, Merle mostly limp, breathing evenly against his brother’s shoulder, before Daryl was withdrawing to look at his sibling.

“You should get some rest, brother…” he said, eyes drifting over Merle’s tired face, “I’ll bring you some food later n’wake you up…”

“Okay, Dar…” Merle murmured, blinking up at him tiredly.

Merle’s eyes fluttered closed and he prepared to drift off to sleep and Daryl smiled indulgently, brushing a hand through Merle’s hair before he pressed his lips to Merle’s forehead, revelling in the whuffling sigh that Merle gave in response and the way Merle’s fingers brushed his ribs.


	9. Visitors

True to his word, Daryl brought their lunch up to the cell a few hours later, setting their food down on his own cot before he was going to Merle’s side and kneeling beside the cot. Merle was fast asleep, breathing deeply, eyes moving under his eyelids, and Daryl didn’t really to wake him, but knew that he needed to eat and needed to do his exercises. He settled a gentle hand on Merle’s forehead, stroking the skin there a few times, frowning a little at the slight temperature Merle had.

Merle’s eyes fluttered open, drifting around the cell listlessly before they were finding his face and flicking over his features. Merle smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and glittering with affection, and Daryl’s heart thudded painfully in his chest; he loved his brother so much.

“I brought lunch” he said softly.

Merle nodded and Daryl helped him to sit up, propping pillows behind him and giving him some water when he licked his dry lips. Merle managed to feed himself at least half of his meal this time around, and Daryl smiled at him, patting his shoulder before he was helping him to eat the rest. Daryl took their plates and set them on the other cot to take away later, and when he turned back Merle was rubbing at his chest, wincing a little.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, moving back to Merle’s side, “does your chest hurt?”

“Yeah, it burns…” Merle said, teeth gritted and bared, “hurt after breakfast too, but this is worse...”

“Doctor S said it’s common,” Daryl said, smiling sympathetically, “jus’ try and relax.”

Merle nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it, then sighed when the pain ebbed, settling back against the pillows.

“Can I have some water?” Merle asked.

Daryl handed him his glass of water and Merle drank thirstily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once when he was done and Daryl had taken the glass from him. He rubbed at his chest, face creased in pain, the pain still sitting behind his sternum, and Daryl settled a hand on his shoulder.

“You should do your exercises,” Daryl suggested, “it might help.”

Merle sighed and nodded, sitting up and grabbing a pillow to brace against his chest and a cloth to cough into, and Daryl smiled at him, patting his side supportively. Merle did his breathing exercises, then his finger exercises, flexing and clenching the digits gingerly, and sat back with a deep exhalation when he was done. He smiled tiredly at Daryl, and to the younger Dixon’s surprise, reached out and took his hand, tugging him closer, so Daryl climbed into the cot with him and entwined their fingers.

They sat together in silence for a while, pressed thigh to thigh, just holding hands, enjoying the sunlight that filtered through the window, bathing the cell in a soft yellow. They could hear people outside, chatting and laughing, and Daryl smiled, turning to his brother.

“The others can’t wait to see you,” Daryl said, finally breaking the silence, smiling and starting to stroke Merle’s knuckles with his thumb, “do you feel up to having visitors?”

Merle blinked at him for a moment, seemingly surprised by the others caring about him, before his eyes were dropping to the sheets.

“Andrea’s got books for you,” Daryl said, nudging him with an elbow gently, almost teasingly, “n’I’m pretty sure Carol’s been hoarding cookies for you.”

Merle’s eyes flicked to meet his again, wide with disbelief, and Daryl smiled at him, enamoured by his expression, by the way his cheeks turned a little pink as he mulled it over. Daryl wished that he could show Merle that the others truly cared, that they were good, kind people. It had taken him nearly a year to warm to the others the way he had, and he knew that Merle would have even more difficulty with it, but he also knew that it would do him a world of good to be part of a proper family, that he could heal and come out of his shell.

He realised that Merle had never had true friends, had never spent long in the platonic company of others, suspicious of their intentions, afraid of rejection or being abandoned, and his heart ached for him.

“Maybe later…” Merle said quietly, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

Daryl resumed rubbing his knuckles with his thumb with a smile, which broadened when Merle sighed heavily, squeezing his hand, and turned his head and pressed his forehead to his shoulder. They lay there for a long time in that position, pressed side to side, Merle’s forehead against Daryl’s shoulder, breathing almost in tandem, a slow in and out. Daryl gave in to his affection and pressed a kiss to the top of Merle’s head, curling his other hand around the back of Merle’s neck briefly before withdrawing when Merle trembled.

“Can I have more water?” he asked against his shoulder, swallowing dryly.

“Sure, I’ll go get some more” Daryl said, smiling.

He swung his legs over the cot and stood to leave, collecting their plates as he made his way to the door.

“Hey, Dar…” Merle called just as he hit the threshold.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back to look at his brother.

“Can you let the others know I’m okay with a few visitors?” Merle asked, and Daryl was completely enamoured by the way his cheeks went pink and his fingers picked nervously at the sheets.

“Sure, Mer… I’ll let them know” he said with a smile, then made his way to the common room.

\--

A few hours later Andrea appeared at the door and made a pleased noise, smiling bright and wide at finding Merle awake and looking intently at the cracks in the concrete wall nearest to him.

“You’re awake!” she said enthusiastically from the door.

He jumped a little, gasping quietly, apparently lost in thought, and squinted up at her, recognising her quickly from the light playing off her blonde hair and smiling broadly at her.

“I am,” he said amusedly, “woke up jus’ before breakfast…”

He shifted to sit more upright to receive her as she entered the cell and pulled the chair up beside the cot to sit with him, his eyes trying to focus on her face, and his face scrunched in concern upon finding her injured.

“Shit, what happened to your face, Blondie?” Merle asked, frowning at the healing cuts on her face, eyes tracking over her features.

“Philip tried to kill Milton and I, locked us up in a room at Woodbury,” she said, touching the cuts lightly, and Merle’s eyes went wide, brow creasing in concern, “he was going to kill Milton and have him kill me, if you hadn’t have winged him in the shoulder he would have. He was too focussed on revenge to stay long enough.”

“Well, I’m glad you got out okay…” he said softly, eyes tracking over her face.

“I’m glad that you’re okay too, Merle…” she said, smiling back and reaching over to pat his good arm, “it was close, apparently.”

He shrugged weakly but smiled, almost bashfully, before he tentatively took her hand, squeezing it gently, his thumb stroking her fingers. He couldn’t meet her eyes, his own fixed firmly on his lap, and her smile broadened at how charming it was. Merle had called Daryl the sweet one, but she could see that there was something in Merle too that was sweet and gentle, something hidden deep and locked away, protected and held safe by his gruff exterior.

“I brought you some books,” she said after a few minutes of easy silence, “I didn’t know what to give you, but Daryl told me that you’ll read pretty much anything.”

He grinned at her and she smiled back as she withdrew her hand from his grasp and pulled a stack of books out of her bag, handing them to him one by one and letting him read them. She piled them beside his cot as he handed them back, and eventually there was a pile of four books beside his cot.

“Thanks Andrea, I appreciate it,” he said, before he was chuckling, “I’m already going crazy, bein’ stuck in here.”

“I’ll bet” she laughed in return.

He smiled again shyly, seeming to hesitate for a moment before he was pointing to the wall.

“I’ve been finding shapes in the concrete,” he said, pointing out the cracks, “I found a pig n’a whale, n’an orchid.”

“I totally see them,” she said, grinning, then pointing as she continued, “there’s a pineapple there, too.”

“Oh yeah, there is!” Merle breathed excitedly, eyes tracking over the shape she’d found.

They pointed out shapes they found in the cracks in the wall, laughing and grinning at each other, and she was surprised just how much she was enjoying spending time with him, surprised to discover how funny he was. It hit her that _this_ was the Merle that Daryl knew and loved, the Merle he tried to get everyone else to see, and she hoped that Merle continued along this path; he was a joy to be around like this.

Eventually Merle had to sit back, exhausted, and they looked at each other for a few moments before Merle’s injuries were making themselves known, making him cough violently and gasp for air, hand coming up to cover his mouth shakily. He grabbed a pillow, fumbling for it blindly before pressing it to his chest to brace his ribs as coughs wracked him. Daryl rushed into the room upon hearing him in distress, climbing into the cot beside him and rubbing at his back, letting him curl into him, and Andrea watched, face creased with concern. The coughing fit lasted a minute and left Merle exhausted, and he slumped against Daryl, breathing wetly.

“F-fuck…” Merle rasped, swallowing, his eyes watery with pain.

When he pulled his hand away they found blood tinging the corners of his mouth and his fingers, staining the bandaged digits red, and Daryl and Andrea’s hearts sunk.

“Can you get Doctor S please, Andrea?” Daryl asked, turning to look at her beseechingly, trying not to sound too shaken up for Merle’s sake.

Andrea nodded and went to find the man immediately, walking out of the cell briskly, her footsteps echoing down the gangway. Daryl cradled his brother in his arms, speaking to him softly, worry mounting as Merle went pale and clutched at him, breathing laboured and eyes wide.

Caleb appeared not long after, entering the cell quickly, and Daryl peered up at them as they bustled inside, before moving and making room so Caleb could sit on the chair at the bedside, getting his stethoscope out and warming it between his palms. He pressed the diaphragm over Merle’s heart, listening intently to his heartbeat, before moving it to his side to listen to his lungs. He sat back, putting the stethoscope around his shoulders before leaning in and brandishing a torch. Merle opened his mouth weakly, letting the other man look inside, and Caleb gave his throat a once-over before sitting back once more.

“It sounds like residual phlegm from your injury, not new blood pooling,” Caleb said, “you’ll be coughing it up over the next week.”

Daryl’s head tipped back in relief, and Merle smiled reassuringly, albeit tiredly at him, reaching over to pat his side gently, empathetically.

“You’ve been doing your exercises, yes?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah, every hour,” Merle reassured.

“Good, keep it up, it should help with clearing your chest and airway,” Caleb said, smiling, “you’re on the mend, just take it easy.”

Merle nodded, smiling at the other man.

“How long until this bandage can come off?” Merle asked with a sigh, gesturing to his bound shoulder, “s’uncomfortable...”

“I take your shoulder out of the bandages now,” Caleb said, “but you need to rest it and try not to move it too much. It wasn’t reset for a while, so the muscles will be weak.”

Merle nodded his understanding, and Caleb moved to remove the bandages. Merle rolled the shoulder gingerly, groaning at the stretch of his muscles, at finally being able to move the arm a little.

“Thanks Caleb” Merle said, his voice soft.

“Not a problem,” Caleb said in return, standing to leave and packing his kit away, “let me know if anything happens.”

The brothers nodded their understanding, smiling at him, and Caleb left, revealing Andrea, who had been standing in the doorway, watching them quietly. They smiled at her and she entered the cell once more, standing at the foot of the cot and watching as Daryl climbed into the cot beside his brother and smiling at the picture they made.

“Sorry, I must have made you talk too much,” she said, smiling apologetically, “are you alright?”

“M’fine, Andrea,” Merle said, reassuring her, “it was nice havin’ company. You can come visit any time you want.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that” she said, her eyes glinting cheerfully.

Merle flushed a little and she felt her chest tighten with affection.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you both later,” she said, “I promised I’d help out with the fences.”

“Thanks for the books Andrea,” Merle said with a smile, “have a nice day.”

“Any time!” she replied over her shoulder as she left, “you too.”

Daryl wrapped an arm around him with a grin once she was gone, nudging him teasingly with a gentle elbow, and Merle nudged him back before he pressed into his side as best he could.

\--

“I heard you were taking visitors” came a voice from the door, and Merle looked up to find Carol, meeting her eyes and matching her smile.

“I am, come on in” he said, gesturing for her to come inside with his stump arm as he propped himself up more.

She set he and Daryl’s dinner down on the opposite cot before she came closer and sat on the cot beside his knee. He grunted in surprise and then hissed in pain and as he jumped, not expecting the contact when she leaned in to give him a gentle but firm hug and his motions jolted his wounds.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Merle,” she said quickly, looking at his body as she withdrew before she was meeting his eyes and smiling apologetically, “did I hurt you?”

“No, no, m’okay, Carol,” he said softly, reassuring her and smiling shyly, his palm rubbing gently at his broken ribs, “m’just tender s’all.”

“We’ve all been so worried about you, Merle,” Carol said, smiling sadly as her eyes drifted over his body again, “we weren’t sure you’d make it… I’m glad you did…”

Merle didn’t know how to respond so he just smiled and shrugged, his eyes drifting to the sheets and his fingers picking at his blankets. Movement caught his eye, and he looked up as she pulled something out of her pocket, wrapped in a napkin, and he looked at her, frowning questioningly.

“A little bird told me that you like sugar cookies,” she said, her eyes glinting with mirth, before continuing conspiratorially and winking, “that little bird being your brother…”

He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling, and she set the little package on his lap, sitting back to watch him open it. He opened it, finding six cookies inside, before he was wrapping it back up, albeit not as neatly, and then taking her hand and squeezing his thanks into it, his ears flushing red.

“Thanks, Carol,” he said, “I appreciate it.”

She stroked his knuckles with a thumb, smiling, her eyes glinting kindly, and he smiled back tiredly.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked.

“M’okay right now. Doctor S is givin’ me morphine,” he said, “he’s gonna wean me onto weaker painkillers as I heal.”

“That’s good,” she said, “it sounds like you’re on the mend.”

“Here’s hopin’” he chuckled.

There was silence for a few minutes, Merle’s gaze drifting to the sheets thoughtfully, and she waited patiently for him to get his thoughts in order, waited patiently for him to speak.

“M’gonna try and be better,” he said softly, “no more drugs, no more drinkin’.”

She smiled broadly at him, reaching over to hug him again, and she felt him sigh against her, wrapping his arms around her this time and hugging her back, tucking his chin over her shoulder. He was nice and warm, smelt faintly of earth and smoke and herbs, and she hugged him a little tighter, careful of his ribs. He let her hold him for a long while, shivering a little when her hands brushed the scars under his shirt.

“If you ever need help,” she said finally, “please, feel free to ask…”

Merle swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing against her shoulder, and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I want to be the brother Daryl deserves…”

She pulled away at that, seeing self-loathing in his azure eyes, seeing shame and unsureness, an overwhelming vulnerability, and she cupped his face in her palm, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb.

“I’m a _monster_ …” Merle whispered, his voice shaking, and she was nearly rendered breathless at the agony in his eyes.

“No, Merle…” she breathed, shaking her head and raising her other hand so his face was in both of her palms, and she didn’t miss the way he flinched, “Merle Dixon, you are not a monster.”

“I hurt Glenn, and Maggie, and Michonne. I just _hurt_ everyone…” he said, “I’ve hurt Daryl, I never listened to him, I was never there for him. I’m not a good brother, he deserves so much better…”

“He _loves_ you… he loves you so, so much,” she said, “he would be lost without you. He _was_ lost without you when you were unconscious. He hardly left your side.”

He swallowed again but held her gaze bravely, searching her eyes for mistruth, and she met his gaze evenly, letting him search all he wanted.

“You would have sacrificed yourself for him,” she said, “you would have died for him, you nearly did die for him. I think that’s more than enough for him.”

His lip wobbled, his eyes flicking away to look at the wall. She shifted closer to him, leaning in and drawing him into another hug, cupping the back of his head with a hand and he let out a shuddering breath, burying his face in her throat as he shivered against her.

“The others will come around, just give them time,” she said, “I know there’s good in you, and Daryl sees good in you. You’re just a late bloomer.”

He huffed a wet laugh at that, smiling against her skin as he remembered their conversation back in the canteen when they’d been alone, and she chuckled with him, hazarding to stroke his back gently. She knew about the scars there, figured that he probably didn’t like to be touched because of them, so she was gentle, listening out for any cues that would indicate whether he wanted her to stop. He nuzzled against her muzzily, remaining thumb tracing the line of her shoulder blade and she felt affection welling in her chest at the fact he was enjoying a platonic embrace, taking comfort from it and even reciprocating it. She’d never seen him go further than wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders, knew that he wasn’t very openly affectionate at the very least, or completely averse to it at the most, so it was a little breathtaking that he was allowing himself to enjoy this.

A few minutes later he withdrew, sighing tiredly and smiling at her as she put a little more space between them for his comfort, his eyes dancing over her features, before his gaze was pulled to the door as Daryl returned to the cell.

“Hey Carol” Daryl said from the door, and she returned the greeting and his smile cheerfully.

The younger Dixon walked into the cell, moving to stand at the head of the cot so he could set a hand on Merle’s good shoulder, squeezing it gently before shifting to cup his neck in a hand and stroke the soft divot at the base of his brother’s skull with a thumb. Merle hummed and leaned into the unfamiliar form of contact, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and Daryl and Carol shared a look and a smile, fondness towards the elder Dixon evident in their gazes. Merle’s ears went red as he automatically went to shy away from the contact, but he powered through it, relaxing into Daryl’s touch, much to Daryl’s surprise.

“Thanks for bringing us dinner, Carol” Daryl murmured, continuing to stroke the base of Merle’s skull with his thumb and daring to do the same under his ear, revelling in the way Merle practically melted against him, turning his head to press his forehead to his hip, the closest thing he could reach.

She nodded and smiled, going doe-eyed at the picture the brothers made, and Daryl couldn’t help but flush at the undisguised affection in her eyes, aimed at them, of all people. He sat on the cot beside Merle, breaking his brother from his spell, and smiled back when Merle met his eyes and smiled. Merle settled against him, sighing wearily before looking at Carol, meeting her gaze and flushing a little when her eyes tracked over his face.

“You should eat and get some sleep” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he agreed with a smile, blinking slowly at her as exhaustion set in suddenly, “thanks for the cookies, Carol.”

She smiled again, reaching over and cupping his cheek in her hand before she was standing and bidding them farewell as she left. Daryl retrieved their plates from the opposite cot, setting Merle’s on his lap and handing him a fork as he sat back down beside him, facing him. Merle ate most of his dinner by himself while they talked, letting Daryl take over when he became too tired to raise his arm and hold the fork. They finished eating and sat together for a while, just keeping each other company, before Daryl was climbing off of the cot and stacking their plates.

“S’my turn to wash dishes,” Daryl explained softly with a sigh, “I’d better go do that.”

Merle smiled and nodded, taking his brother’s hand briefly and squeezing it before letting it go so Daryl could leave.

“Do your exercises n’ try n’ get some sleep…” Daryl said softly, reaching to stroke a hand through Merle’s hair, “I’ll be back soon, brother.”

Merle nodded again and Daryl pressed a pillow to his chest before he left, making his way down to the common room. When he got there he waved at the others, smiling when they greeted him, and discovered that Andrea had already started doing his job and frowned, moving to take over.

“Sorry, Andrea, I lost track of time,” Daryl said, “thanks, I’ll take over.”

She smiled and continued to help him regardless, and he smiled back, starting to make small talk with her as they washed up together.

\--

Daryl spent almost an hour downstairs with the others before he was calling it a night, bidding them goodnight as he left, travelling up the stairs and along the gangway to he and Merle’s shared cell. He approached the cell quietly, shifting the curtain aside and peering inside to find Merle, fast asleep, limbs strewn wildly about the cot, and he smiled, heart swelling with affection. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, just watching Merle sleep, before he was stepping inside quietly.

Merle woke as he entered and Daryl smiled at him, heart fluttering at the dozy smile Merle gave in return and at the way he patted the cot beside him, shifting over to make room for him. Daryl took his place at Merle’s side once more, settling in under the sheets with him, his heart thudding happily when Merle rolled onto his side and snuggled up to him, his arm now free from its bindings. Merle’s broken arm curled over his waist, the motion tentative and slow as Merle tested how his broken ribs coped with the movement, and Daryl grinned at his brother, wrapping his arm around him gently in return.

Merle was sleep-warm, his skin flushed and his brain muzzy, and yawned sleepily against his chest, and Daryl found himself more content than he had been in a long time.

“What’d you talk about with the others?” Merle mumbled.

“We’re thinking about setting up gardens n’ stuff…” he said, “maybe you can help when you’re better.”

Merle chuckled, nodding against his chest.

“N’Michonne wants to go after the Governor,” he continued with a sigh, “but we don’t have any idea where he would have gone.”

That woke Merle up, making him withdraw and look at Daryl’s face, concern and fear flooding his eyes and etching their way onto his features. He felt Merle’s heartrate increasing against his side, felt Merle’s breath catch a little in his chest. Merle pursed his lips and then swallowed, tucking his head under Daryl’s chin, and Daryl rubbed his back soothingly. They lay there for a while, just holding each other, and Daryl could feel tension building in his brother’s body, could feel his stress mounting. He just rubbed his back, trying to reassure him and get him to relax, until Daryl’s tiredness got the best of him and he drifted off to sleep, hoping that Merle would follow suit and get some more rest.

\--

Daryl woke again hours later, in the middle of the night, and looked at his brother, expecting to find him sleeping but finding him wide awake. Merle was tense, staring into space, and looked at him when he squeezed him a little to get his attention, his matching eyes meeting his, and Daryl was floored by the unfamiliar emotion he found in them.

“Y’okay, Mer?” he asked quietly.

Merle shook his head.

“He’s still alive…” he murmured, “he’s out there somewhere…”

Daryl was dumbstruck.

“We’ll protect you, Mer” he said quietly, rubbing a hand up and down Merle’s side.

“Naw, it’s not that…” Merle said, shaking his head, and Daryl was even more dumbstruck when he realised that his eyes were wet with unshed tears, “I failed to kill him and you’re still in danger…”

Daryl hugged him closer, realising that Merle was trembling like a leaf against him, his breathing tight with emotion, pressing a kiss to his hairline, trying to reassure his flesh and blood.

“I’m a failure as a brother…” Merle whispered, “I can’t even protect you right. I wasn’t around when dad was hurting you… I’m such a fucking failure…”

“Shh, Mer, you did everything you could…” Daryl soothed, his heart aching at the despair in Merle’s voice, “you’re a good brother to me, y’always have been…”

Merle whimpered, curling into his side, and Daryl pulled him against him more firmly. They didn’t say anything for a long while, the younger Dixon just held his brother against him as he trembled, sniffling and whimpering, trying his damndest not to cry. He didn’t cry, teetering on the verge of it but forcing his emotions down, and Daryl felt his heart hurt for him, wishing that Merle would just give in to it but knowing it was hard for Merle to let go. Merle had never expressed his upset in front of him before, and it hurt Daryl to hear him so upset, but he didn’t know what to do, so he just held him close. He started to whisper encouraging, loving words into Merle’s ear, telling him all the things he loved about him and pressing his lips to his forehead and hairline.

Merle fought hard not to cry as his baby brother showered him with affection, wondering why these emotions were only hitting him now and why he was having such a hard time getting them under wraps. Slowly he calmed, his breathing evening out against Daryl’s chest as he started to drift off again, enjoying the feeling of Daryl’s fingers stroking his spine and his breath against his ear, the timbre of the voice he was most familiar with speaking lowly in his ear, lips against his forehead. It was nice, better than nice; Merle wondered muzzily why he’d always refused this kind of contact with his brother as he finally drifted off to sleep.


	10. Setback

****Daryl woke again at daybreak and spent a few moments just taking in the morning light as it filtered through the window above the cot, bathing the cell in a soft yellow. He took a deep breath and sighed before he was looking at Merle, finding his sleeping face, and was enamoured by his brother’s features, his chest flooding with warmth at the way Merle’s breath whuffled out of him.

He just watched Merle’s face for a long while, taking in his features and smiling at the way Merle twitched a little in sleep, his eyes shifting beneath their lids, his brows creasing and relaxing, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little before dropping again. A few minutes later Merle finally woke, his eyes sliding open to half-mast slivers, revealing the azure irises that lay beneath the lids, a shade akin to Daryl’s own. Daryl watched as Merle’s brain shifted online, clarity flooding his eyes, and smiled when those eyes shifted to look at him, meeting his as Merle smiled back.

He leant in close, pressing a kiss to Merle’s forehead, and felt Merle’s fingers brush at his forearm, stroking gently at his skin. Merle hummed and then sighed at the contact, and Daryl wrapped his arms around him, tucking his chin over his head. They lay like that for a few minutes, enjoying the contact and the soft light that illuminated the cell, the sounds of birds outside, before Merle was squirming out of his grasp, shifting to look at him.

“Can you help me to the bathroom?” he asked.

“F’course, Mer” Daryl said in reply, eyes glittering fondly.

They made their way to the bathrooms and back without much issue, Merle was already much stronger than he had been the day prior, only having to stop twice along the way to catch his breath and recover. Daryl settled his brother back into his cot and chatted with him for a while, making sure that he did his exercises, before he was making his way downstairs to help with breakfast.

Merle sighed upon being left alone again, and was struck by just how much he missed company when he was alone. He had never relied on other peoples’ presence to keep himself occupied and it was a new feeling, craving closeness and attention and affection. He looked around the cell, taking a deep breath in before letting it out as his eyes fell on the pile of books at his bedside.

Daryl had set the book he’d been reading to him on top of the pile, dog-eared about a quarter of the way through, and Merle smiled, picking it up and reading its back and front. He set it down on the sheets and reached for the next book in the pile instead of continuing it by himself, wanting Daryl to read it to him, and laid the new book on his lap before setting the other back atop the pile. He read the back of the book and inspected the front, eyes dancing over the cover, before he was opening it and starting to read, losing himself quickly in the story.

\--

Daryl helped out with breakfast, standing alongside Carol and Rick as they worked together to make enough to feed many hungry mouths. Mealtimes were a monumental task now that the prison had taken on new people, but they were managing for now and were planning on finding ways to better their situation. Daryl decided to ask Merle his opinion, knew that Merle had a green thumb and a knack for survival; he’d taught him everything he knew after all, had survived cutting his own hand off and being shot point blank in the chest, had survived their childhood.

He had said as much to Rick and some of the others, and they had agreed whole-heartedly that Merle’s opinion was important. Glenn and Maggie were still very wary of Merle, understandably, and Daryl hoped that the three of them could become at least civil to each other, knowing that patience and understanding and most of all forgiveness would be tantamount to Merle opening up. He’d been stunned when Michonne had started to hang around the cell, and though she hadn’t been to see his brother since he’d woken, he hoped that the two would be able to talk about their issues and get along. He made a mental note to speak to Merle about apologising; he knew Merle felt guilty about the pain and suffering and terror he’d caused the others, felt remorse for hurting them and putting them in danger, but that he didn’t know how to put it into words.

They finished dishing up breakfast, and once everyone was sitting down and eating their share, Daryl dished up two bowls for himself and Merle before he was making his way back up to their cell, bidding the others goodbye as he went. He found Merle reading quietly in his cot when he approached the cell, completely and utterly immersed in the story, and stood in the doorway for a few moments, not wanting to disturb the moment, smiling tenderly at his brother as his heart swelled with affection.

Merle looked up as he entered the room, and his heart melted even further at the way Merle lit up at his presence, at the glint in his eyes, at the way he grinned and squirmed bodily to sit up and receive him, his attention entirely on him. He snorted a laugh through his nose and moved closer with a smile, sitting down on the cot and waiting for Merle to mark his place in the book and set it aside before he was helping him to sit more upright and then handing him his breakfast. Merle thanked him and tucked in hungrily as Daryl sat on the cot with him, and met his brother’s eyes, his own glinting tenderly.

“So, with the gardens,” Daryl started after a few moments of silence, watching Merle take another mouthful, glad that his brother had such an appetite, “what plants do you think we should start with?”

Merle had perked up at the question, and mulled it over as he chewed, nodding thoughtfully, and then swallowed.

“Probably filler stuff, like potatoes n’carrots, n’onions… stuff for stews,” Merle said, “s’probably a good idea to get ‘em goin’ ‘fore winter comes.”

Daryl nodded his agreement, thinking over what his brother had said, knowing that Merle was right and that it was better to think about the long run than the short term.

“I dunno where we’d find seeds…” Daryl sighed, prodding at his food, “suppose we could look for packets of seeds when we’re on a run.”

“S’probably a good idea to start collecting ‘em at least,” Merle agreed, “can probably scavenge some from Woodbury to get started.”

“Woodbury had gardens?” Daryl asked, wondering why no-one from Woodbury had mentioned it.

“Gov’ner’s private stash,” Merle said, rolling his eyes at the mention of the other man, “don’t think that anyone but me ‘n him knew about it.”

Daryl snorted a laugh through his nose at Merle’s humour before shaking his head at the Governor’s selfishness. Merle finished his breakfast, reaching over to set his plate on the chair beside his cot before he was sitting back with a sigh, grimacing after a moment and settling his hand on his chest, his fingers rubbing at his sternum.

“Pain?” Daryl asked, frowning when Merle nodded, “Doctor S ain’t given you painkillers since yesterday, huh?”

Merle nodded again before gripping a pillow and holding it to his chest so he could start his breathing exercises, hoping that it would alleviate the pain, and Daryl smiled at him sympathetically. Merle completed his exercises before he was sitting back exhaustedly and tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Y’alright?” Daryl asked softly, frowning at Merle’s pained expression.

Merle shook his head, wiping sweat from his forehead, and Daryl frowned, setting his empty plate on top of Merle’s before he was reaching out and pressing his palm to Merle’s forehead. He was clammy and warm, and he could feel him trembling minutely, and he was immediately a little concerned, cupping Merle’s face in a hand and meeting his eyes for a few moments.

“M’gonna go get Doctor S,” Daryl said, collecting their plates, “I’ll be right back, Mer…”

He went downstairs to the common room, handing he and Merle’s plates to Beth and Carl, who were on dish duty, and thanking them, before he was moving to find Caleb. The other man was sitting with some Woodbury residents, and looked up at him as he approached, concern spreading across his face at the expression he must have found on his face.

“Hello Daryl, is everything alright?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, Doctor S. Merle’s in a lot of pain,” Daryl said, “n’he’s got a temperature.”

“Come, let’s go see him” Caleb said with a reassuring smile as he stood.

Caleb collected his kit and followed him up to he and Merle’s cell in C block to check on the older Dixon. They were immediately on edge upon finding Merle staring into space, dripping with sweat, his eyes distant as he swayed a little, his face blank and his breaths coming in sharp pants.

“Mer?” Daryl called softly.

Merle didn’t respond to his voice, didn’t even blink, and Daryl and Caleb exchanged a look before they were stepping into the cell. Caleb was immediately putting his stethoscope around his neck and warming the diaphragm in between his hands before pressing it to Merle’s chest, listening to his lungs and heart. He took Merle’s temperature, tucking a thermometer under Merle’s tongue to read it before he was shining a torch into Merle’s eyes and watching how his pupils responded to light. He frowned at the sluggishness of their response and turned to Daryl.

“I need to look at his gunshot wound, check that he’s not harbouring an infection,” he said, “do you mind removing his shirt?”

Daryl nodded, tugging Merle’s shirt off gently and holding it against himself, watching Caleb as he lifted the gauze that was over the wound at Merle’s chest. The wound beneath was a little red but didn’t show signs of infection, so Caleb cleaned it carefully and sealed it back up before looking at the wound at Merle’s back, finding it in the same state and giving it the same treatment. He sat back, watching as Daryl settled his brother back into the pillows behind him, and frowned deeply when he noticed that Merle’s limbs were starting to jerk a little.

Daryl frowned when the other man lunged forward and quickly pried the thermometer out of Merle’s mouth, peering at the other man concernedly for a moment before the reason was becoming apparent. Merle started to seize, his eyes rolling wildly and his limbs moving in uneven jerks, and Daryl moved to give his brother room, not wanting Merle to hurt himself, his heart sinking in his chest. The seizure was short lived and only moderately severe, lasting a minute before tapering off, and Daryl moved to roll him onto Merle good side before he was sitting back and waiting for him to rouse. He looked to Caleb for support, and the other man smiled empathetically.

“This is very likely due to withdrawal,” Caleb said as he jotted the seizure down in the notepad he’d started, his lips pursed, “I think it’s best that I don’t give him any more morphine.”

Daryl nodded his agreement, settling his hand on top of Merle’s head and stroking his brother’s forehead with his thumb, hoping that it brought Merle at least some comfort. It took five minutes for Merle to wake, his eyes rolling open blearily and gazing at nothing, and they waited patiently for his brain to come back online. Merle’s eyes focussed another minute later, drifting up to find his sibling’s face, and Daryl smiled at him, heart fluttering when Merle smiled back at him dazedly, blinking slowly.

“Wha’s wrong?” Merle slurred, apparently recognising his distress.

“You had another seizure…” Daryl said softly, continuing to stroke his forehead.

“Hmm” Merle hummed, lips pursing.

“It wasn’t too bad, it was short,” Daryl filled him in, “n’you woke up quick.”

Merle’s eyes fluttered shut tiredly and he nodded, reaching out uncoordinatedly to wrap his fingers around his wrist to try and tug his brother closer, and Daryl smiled, linking their fingers and pressing a kiss to Merle’s knuckles, making his older brother turn pink and give a shy smile.

“Let Doctor S look you over first…” he said tenderly.

Merle pouted but agreed and Daryl huffed a laugh at his expression before he was moving aside just enough to give Caleb room to work, maintaining the grip he had on Merle’s hand.

“Hello Merle,” Caleb greeted kindly, “tell me, how are you feeling?”

“M’really… spacy…” Merle said, his voice soft, “everythin’s fuzzy.”

“That’s understandable,” Caleb said, “just relax, everything is fine.”

Merle hummed, allowing the other man to check his pupils and to pinch the back of his hand to test his hydration, to slot a thermometer under his tongue and listen to his heartbeat and breathing again, to check his ribs and his broken arm and the state of his fingers. Caleb sat back once he had checked him over, apparently deeming him on the mend.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to give you any more morphine, Merle,” Caleb said, “the seizure was very likely caused by withdrawal, and I fear that it will only get worse.”

Merle nodded his understanding, licking his dry lips after Caleb removed the thermometer from his mouth, reading his temperature and deeming it within normal range, perhaps a little bit high, but not worryingly so.

“I’ll give Daryl some non-opioid pain killers to give you,” Caleb explained, “they should at least take the edge off.”

“Okay, Doctor S” Merle said softly, blinking up at him tiredly, “thank you.”

Caleb smiled and patted his shoulder before he was rummaging through his kit.

“I’ll give you these for now, they’ll help with your temperature too,” he said, holding a packet of Paracetamol up for Merle to see before handing it to Daryl, “the next time the others go on a run I’ll ask them to find more.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Daryl said, setting the packet aside atop their books, “how often should I give them to him?”

“Two tablets every four hours for now,” Caleb said, “we need to keep on top of the pain, so be vigilant about it. We’ll gradually cut down as Merle heals.”

Daryl nodded his understanding, smiling and taking Merle’s hand when his brother’s fingers brushed his wrist, requesting contact, smile broadening when Merle relaxed with a soft sigh.

“Make sure he drinks lots of water too,” Caleb said, “it’s important he’s hydrated enough to break down the pain killers properly.”

“Thanks again, Caleb,” Daryl said, moving his free hand to shake his hand, “I really appreciate this.”

“Any time Daryl,” Caleb said with a smile, shaking his hand, “please let me know if anything happens.”

“I will” Daryl said, smiling.

Caleb packed up his kit and left, and Daryl was immediately trying to get Merle’s attention, helping him to sit up when Merle could hold his gaze. He gave him water and pain killers, making sure that Merle had swallowed them and that they weren’t on their way back up, before he was helping his sibling to lie down again.

This time he climbed into the cot when Merle’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged him closer, and he revelled in the sigh Merle gave as he enveloped him in his arms, in the way Merle snuggled against his chest blearily, humming contentedly. He rubbed at Merle’s side gently in a rhythmic motion, synchronising the movement with Merle’s breathing, and Merle went boneless against him. They lay in silence for a long while, just cuddling and enjoying each other’s presence, before Merle was breaking the silence.

“Read to me?” Merle rasped quietly, barely audible.

Daryl leant in to press a kiss to his forehead in response, squeezing him carefully before he was reaching over the side of the cot to pick the book he’d been reading up out of the pile. He held the book so that Merle could read along over his chest before he started to read, smiling at the way Merle melted against him with a contented, airy sigh.


	11. Reading

A few days passed by in a blur, and Merle didn’t do much else but read, eat, and rest, much to his frustration, confined to his tiny cot in he and Daryl’s tiny cell on Caleb’s orders. The others visited him regularly, keeping him company during their down time, but for the most part he was left alone, left to mind-numbing boredom and silence. He’d already read through two of the four books that Andrea had given him, much to Daryl’s amusement, and was trying to read the current one slowly and savour it, but it was proving difficult.

He was watching the light of the late morning sun dancing on the ceiling as it filtered through the bars, and didn’t notice his brother’s presence until the cot dipped with his weight and he was being pulled into his arms. He jerked, his eyes going wide, before he recognised that it was only Daryl, and smiled and burrowed into his side, taking a deep breath in through his nose and taking in his scent before he was letting the breath out in a deep sigh and wrapping his broken arm over his sibling’s waist.

They lay together for a while, enjoying one another’s warmth, before Daryl was reaching over the side of the cot and retrieving Merle’s book, smiling when Merle’s eyes lit up, sparkling with enthusiasm. Daryl opened the book to where Merle had left off before he was handing it to him, making sure it was secure in his brother’s three-fingered grip before he was letting go of it and shifting to get them into a more comfortable position so that Merle could read.

Merle read against him for an hour and a half, yawning intermittently, and eventually Daryl had to take the book from him when Merle could hardly keep his eyes open, when he kept nodding off and then jerking awake. Merle would read for days on end if left alone, wouldn’t sleep or eat if he became too engrossed in his books, and Daryl knew he’d have to intervene more often, judging by the darkening circles under Merle’s eyes.

To his credit, Merle had been sleeping a lot more, had been napping frequently, but it wasn’t good sleep, interrupted by pain and nightmares, and it showed. Daryl realised belatedly that the only time Merle slept well was when he slept with him, pressed securely against his side, safe and sound, and his heart fluttered with affection at the realisation. He watched Merle for a while longer, until Merle could hardly keep awake, before he reached out and took the book from Merle’s hand. Merle gave an affronted, sleepy grunt as it slipped from his fingers, and reached for the book, fingers grasping weakly at it as he frowned up at Daryl petulantly, and Daryl took his hand in his free one with an enamoured smile, pressing a kiss to the knuckles as he set the book aside, making Merle flush.

“Get some sleep, Mer…” he said softly, reaching up to cup Merle’s stubbly cheek with his other hand, thumb caressing his cheekbone, “y’look tired, brother.”

Merle considered him for a few moments, blinking up at him tiredly with each stroke of his thumb before he was conceding, wrapping his arm over his chest again and snugging closer, shifting against him bodily before settling with a sigh. Daryl could feel Merle’s heart beating against his side, could feel it thudding rhythmically through his brother’s ribs, and he rubbed a hand up and down Merle’s side slowly, feeling Merle’s heartrate slowing as his body prepared for sleep. Merle dropped into sleep nearly immediately, breathing softly against Daryl’s shoulder, and Daryl smiled contentedly, adjusting his hold on Merle’s hand so their fingers were intertwined

An hour later Rick appeared in the doorway, leaning against the bars, and he couldn’t suppress the tender expression that settled over his face at finding the elder Dixon brother cuddling up to his sibling, held securely in Daryl’s arms. Daryl looked up at him and smiled before returning his attention to his brother, continuing to rub a hand up and down his side gently, and Rick smiled at the picture they made. Daryl had hinted that Merle had never been inclined to physical affection, and he was glad that the brothers were bonding, taking quiet time together and letting Merle heal, in more ways than physical it seemed, judging by how level headed Merle had been lately.

Merle had lost a fair amount of weight, especially muscle mass, after being unconscious for five days and then waking only to be bedridden, overtaxed with agony and exhaustion, unable to eat large quantities of food without feeling pain and unable to exercise without risking his lungs collapsing. He was rarely seen around outside the cell and tended to pad about the cell block at night when everyone was asleep, wandering in circles or along the gangway when he thought no one could see his agonised pacing, Daryl at his side or not far behind him, keeping him company and lending a hand. It was good to see him resting now, sleeping soundly against his brother’s side, his face slack.

“Lunch is nearly ready…” he said quietly, “want me to bring you and Merle some?”

“Thanks Rick,” Daryl nodded, “‘preciate it…”

Rick smiled and nodded and walked away, disappearing down the gangway, his footsteps echoing around the cell block as he made his way towards the common room. Daryl looked down at Merle’s sleeping face, smiling at his relaxed features and bringing a hand up to card through his hair gently. Merle snuffled, eyes sliding open blearily before drifting to look at him, and Daryl revelled in the dozy smile he received, in the way Merle melted against him, shivering a little, when his hand carded through his hair again.

“Lunch is ready,” Daryl said softly, “y’hungry?”

Merle yawned, jaw cracking, and nodded as he stretched gingerly against him, his shirt lifting up with the motion, allowing the muscles of his bared stomach to brush against Daryl’s side in a show of absolute trust that left Daryl a little breathless and made his lip wobble. Merle still didn’t like being touched very much, had only opened up to him and started to allow his touches very recently, and even then it was still difficult for him to relax, and Daryl had a feeling that it had something to do with their childhood, to do with something that Merle hadn’t yet told him, and he had a feeling it went beyond being smacked around and verbally abused.

Merle had scars on his body that Daryl didn’t know the origin of, ranging from minor to horrifying, and Daryl knew better than to ask about them, knew that Merle would shut down and withdraw if someone drew attention to them. A few of Merle’s scars delved below his waistband, marring his otherwise cream-white hipbones a mottled hue of purple and red, blemished with burns and lash marks, and Daryl had never known what to make of them.

They had never opened up about their childhoods, hadn’t spoken a word, with Merle being too uncomfortable and emotionally stunted to express himself, and Daryl wondered if he’d start to open up more about it soon. Merle still hadn’t drawn away, much to his surprise, and Daryl felt a wave of joy flow through him, more than content to hold his brother for a little longer.

Rick appeared at the door and Merle’s eyes went wide and he flushed a deep red upon their affections being witnessed, burying his face in Daryl’s side to hide it as he pulled his shirt back down, and the other two men smiled amusedly and affectionately at him. Rick stepped inside, filling the cell with the smell of stewed meat and vegetables, and it was only a minute until Merle raised his head from Daryl’s side, coming out of hiding at the promise of food and making Daryl chuckle.

“I brought you lunch,” Rick said quietly, trying to keep his amused smile under wraps, “hope you’re hungry.”

“Thanks Rick” Merle said with a smile, his cheeks still burning, but to his credit, he met the other man’s eyes.

Rick smiled at him, a genuine stretch of his lips, and set the bowls of stew down on the chair next to the cot before he was leaving, bidding the brothers a friendly farewell and leaving them alone once more. Daryl helped Merle to sit up once Rick was gone, settling pillows behind him and making sure he was comfortable before he was handing him his lunch. Merle tucked in ravenously, practically inhaling his food, and Daryl chuckled amusedly.

“Slow down, Mer…” he said, putting a gentle hand on his brother’s broken arm, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Merle paused in shovelling his food into his mouth, spoon hanging in mid-air as he gazed at him, his mouth open as he prepared to take a bite, and Daryl had to hold his stomach with how hard it made him laugh. Merle took the bite and smiled at him, lips closed and mouth full, laughing through his nose, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he chewed much more languorously this time, heeding his brother’s advice.

They finished their lunches and sat together for a while before Daryl took the bowls downstairs for Carl and Glenn to wash, before he was sitting down and chatting with the others for a while. They made a plan to go on a run after Carol and Maggie had told them their food inventory was low and that their provisions were going to be running out soon, and made the executive decision to deal with it now, rather than later, and so they had planned to go on a supply run in a few hours. He dreaded telling Merle, knew his brother would worry about him, but they needed food.

When he reached the cell he found that Merle was dozing again, breathing in soft whuffles as he napped, content and with a full belly, and Daryl smiled and moved closer, sitting on his own cot to watch him for a while.

It took him less than ten minutes to feel the draw of physical contact, and he sighed, moving to Merle’s side and climbing into the cot beside him. Merle woke as the cot dipped under his weight, his brain resurfacing from dreamland to acknowledge his brother’s presence with a tiny crack of an eyelid, and Daryl’s heart swelled with affection when Merle mumbled something, shifted closer and tucked himself against his side and then drifted back to sleep.

Merle woke again an hour later, eyes bright and alert, the bags under them less pronounced, and Daryl reached up to stroke his hair and cup his face in his hand, and Merle covered the appendage with his own before he was smiling and stretching and then propping himself up carefully on his elbow.

“Hey, brother,” Merle said warmly, voice hoarse with sleep, “what’s the frown for?”

“We’re going on a supply run tonight, in a couple hours. Me, Glenn, Maggie, Ty, n’ Sasha,” Daryl said, ripping off the bandaid, “we’re gonna go pretty far out, so m’probably gonna be gone for a day or two.”

Merle’s brow scrunched up at that, concern flooding his features, and his remaining fingers started to pluck at the corner of his blanket in a motion that Daryl was starting to realise was a nervous tic, and Daryl smiled reassuringly.

“I’ll be fine, Mer…” he said, rubbing his brother’s side gently, “n’I’ll be back ‘fore you know it…”

Merle pursed his lips, and Daryl saw worry flood his eyes as Merle looked away and up at the ceiling, could practically see all of the bad scenarios that Merle was imagining in his head. He’d had his own fair share of those terrible, heart-stopping thoughts. When Merle had disappeared from Atlanta, obviously in bad shape, leaving nothing for them to find but a trail of blood and his own severed hand, he’d spent the next four months dreaming about all the terrible things that may have happened to him.

“I promise I’ll come back, Mer…” he said softly, pulling his brother closer and into a gentle hug before pressing a kiss to his cheekbone.

Merle flushed red and wrapped his arms around him before burying his face in his chest, and Daryl started to rub his back gently, feeling the tension in Merle’s back. Merle eventually went lax against him, tension seeping from his body, and Daryl smiled.

“Read to me?” Merle asked, and Daryl was more than happy to oblige, rolling over to retrieve the book before turning back to his brother.

A few hours later they were broken from their little bubble by the sound of footsteps on the gangway approaching their cell. Merle tensed, fear spreading over his features as he realised that Daryl would be leaving now, and Daryl rubbed his side, reassuring him quietly. There was a knock at the bars, and Daryl cleared his throat before beckoning them inside.

“Hey man, we’re all set up,” came a deep, smooth voice, and Merle looked up to see a man and a woman in the doorway, “y’ready to go?”

“Yeah, m’ready” Daryl drawled, swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

Merle nodded at the pair, finding them vaguely familiar, and attempted a smile. To his surprise the man stepped into the cell and moved closer, extending one big hand for Merle to shake.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tyreese, Ty, for short,” the man greeted, “and this is my baby sister, Sasha.”

“Merle,” he said, offering his hand in return, the opposite to Ty’s, “m’Daryl’s big brother. Nice to meet you.”

If Ty were flustered about having to change hands to shake Merle’s he didn’t show it, and Merle found his palm in a firm but gentle grip, found a bright, friendly smile directed at him. Sasha moved forward to do the same, following her brother’s lead and shaking Merle’s hand, giving him her own similar, warm greeting, and Merle found that he liked the idea of Daryl being in their care.

“Please keep him safe” Merle said softly, peering up at them beseechingly, and he saw understanding in Tyreese’s eyes at his request.

“We’ll get him back safe, don’t worry” Tyreese said softly, and Merle nodded his thanks and smiled, knowing then that the other man meant what he said, that he shared the same bond he and Daryl had with his baby sister, who smiled understandingly at her brother’s side.

“We’ll see you when we get back, Merle” Sasha said with a smile, before she and her brother were leaving.

Merle renewed his hold on Daryl’s hand, giving it a long, affectionate squeeze, and Daryl squeezed his hand back with a smile, meeting his eyes, his own glinting with tenderness. Merle’s eyes flicked to the doorway for a second, checking that the siblings had left the room, before he was throwing all self-consciousness out the window, reaching up and carding his fingers through Daryl’s hair to draw him closer gently by the back of his head, and pressing a gruff, stubbly kiss to his baby brother’s temple for the first time in their lives.

Daryl’s breath stuttered and he gave a dazzling, slightly dazed smile as he withdrew, his eyes glinting with joy and affection, and Merle flushed red as he returned the smile and ruffled his baby brother’s hair. Daryl pulled him into another parting hug, squeezing him tight, and Merle’s blush spread to his ears when Daryl returned the gesture, pressing his lips to his forehead.

“Come on, Daryl!” Glenn called impatiently from the common room, interrupting the moment they were sharing, much to Merle’s dismay, and Daryl shook his head, looking over his shoulder at the curtain over the bars, before returning his attention to his brother.

“I’ll be back, Mer,” Daryl said, smiling tenderly, “I promise.”

Merle smiled back and nodded, watching him leave, their eyes not leaving one another’s until Daryl was out the door. Merle listened to his footsteps as he moved down the gangway and then down the stairs to join the others, and sighed, worry mounting steadily in his chest, and he rubbed at his sternum, trying to tension the ache there.

“I love you…” he whispered, wishing he’d been brave enough to say it to Daryl when he’d had the chance.


	12. Useful

Merle woke, pursing his lips at waking alone for the second morning in a row. Two more days had passed, and he was convinced that he was spiralling into madness, equal parts from worry and from boredom. He’d finished all of Andrea’s books, had asked Daryl to read the rest of the book he’d been reading to him before he’d left on the run, and now he had nothing to do but sleep and stare at the walls and ceiling. The others tried to keep him occupied as best they could, but the prison needed repairs and improvements more than he needed to be coddled, and so he was mostly left to his own devices.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming up the gangway towards the cell and then heard a knock on the bars, and smiled a little at the thought of having company. He’d never been one to crave companionship, except for Daryl’s, of course, and it was an odd feeling to look forward to seeing people that were not Daryl. Especially since these were the same people that had left him for dead and had up until only very recently hated him with a passion. He shook the thoughts away, not wanting to spiral into a dark place, and cleared his throat.

“Come in,” he rasped.

The curtain shifted aside and Rick entered the cell, smiling friendlily, and Merle returned the smile, wincing as he tried to sit up to receive him. Rick was quick to help him up, being as gentle as he possibly could as he wrapped an arm around his back, hand settling firmly against his ribs, careful not to put pressure on the broken ones. Once Merle was upright Rick helped shift the pillows behind his back so that he was better supported and had less strain on his core, and Merle sighed, relaxing back into the pillows.

“Thanks, Rick…” Merle said softly, smiling at him tiredly, and Rick returned the smile and nodded, realising just how special the moment was.

Rick had been ruminating a lot on Merle for the past week, had done a lot of thinking after seeing him fighting for his life, bleeding out on the concrete, all for the sake of protecting his baby brother; after seeing the decades old scars that littered his body, gained by, what he could only assume, protecting his baby brother. He had come to realise that Merle was a lot more complex than he let on, that he was not the person he and the others made him out to be, and that the other man held a depth of memories and secrets that would probably destroy any weaker man.

He realised that Merle was staring at him, eyes flicking over his face, his features settling slowly but steadily into self-consciousness at Rick’s scrutiny, and Rick smiled, trying to dispel the thoughts that must be whirling through the older man’s head. He knew the other man harboured a lot of hatred towards himself, had a feeling that some of his scars were possibly even self-inflicted, and his heart ached for him whenever the thought crossed his mind. He’d decided the second they’d realised that Merle had tried to sacrifice himself for his brother that he wanted to start a healthier relationship with Merle, and he supposed that there was no time like the present to extend the proverbial olive branch.

“How’re you feelin’ this mornin’?” he asked.

“Mostly fine, my chest is aching,” Merle said before he sighed, a deep, heavy breath, and his head dropped as he started picking at the sheets, the motion one that Rick was beginning to recognise as a nervous tic, “I miss Daryl.”

Rick was surprised that Merle had admitted as much, and smiled, eyes going soft at the bond the two brothers shared, before he was handing Merle his morning dose of pain killers and then a glass of water, which Merle took gratefully.

The brothers hadn’t been reunited all that long, had only been back together for two weeks and change, though Merle had been unconscious for a large chunk of it, and the brothers couldn’t spend enough time together to make up for the time they’d been apart. They’d never been apart from each other for so long; Daryl had been able to visit when Merle was in jail in the past, so he was never really missing like he had been after Atlanta.

Rick still felt guilty about what had happened in Atlanta, had been absolutely mortified when they’d found Merle’s severed hand, had wanted to do everything in his power to help Daryl find him, but Merle had quickly become an afterthought when he’d been reunited with Carl and Lori. The others’ opinions of Merle hadn’t helped either, he’d found it too easy to dismiss Merle as a lost cause, and shame pooled heavy in his chest when he looked at the man now, cheerful and placid, fiddling with his sheets with tripod fingers. There was still a manic energy in him, and Rick supposed that it was just how Merle was, but it was nothing like the explosive force he’d seen when they’d first had the misfortune of meeting.

“I need something to do…” Merle said, jolting Rick from his thoughts “m’goin’ stir crazy in here…”

“Didn’t Andrea give you some books?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, I read through ‘em all…” Merle said, gesturing to the pile and flushing a little when Rick looked at him with no small amount of surprise on his face, “I like books…”

Rick smiled, chuckling a little, his chest swelling with an affection he never thought he’d feel for Merle, and he reached over to pat the other man’s shoulder.

“Next supply run we’ll see if we can find some more books,” Rick said, “in the meantime, I’m not sure what to suggest. We really don’t want to push you too hard.”

Merle nodded his understanding, agreeing as his fingers found the hole in his chest, remembering the agony he’d been through, was still going through, and Rick watched him as he thought for a long while. He’d found that Merle was surprisingly easy to just sit with and didn’t seem to mind long silences, and Rick supposed that the other man enjoyed company more than conversations, supposed that being emotionally stunted didn’t help the other man much with being able to converse with or relate to others, either.

“Maybe I can count and sort the ammo, organize ‘em into boxes or somethin’...” Merle suggested, almost timidly, after a while, “start an inventory… might be handy to know what we have on hand.”

Rick blinked at him for a moment, processing just how good Merle’s suggestion was; he was beginning to realise that Merle was a lot smarter than he let on, had a world of knowledge in his brain that he didn’t share. Rick realised that it was likely a result of he and Daryl’s upbringing why Merle was like this, and he’d never describe the man as timid, but he was beginning to realise that Merle kept a lot to himself, and made a mental note to try and include the other man more. He needed to be nurtured and reassured, not shunned and scoffed at, locked away in a different part of the prison, treated like a rabid dog that no-one had the heart to put down.

“That sounds fantastic, great idea, Merle,” he said, smiling, and Merle grinned back in a genuine smile, his eyes glinting in a way that made Rick’s heart flutter, “I’ll bring what I can up for you.”

“Thanks, Rick,” Merle said, “do we have anything I can write on?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Rick said, and patted Merle’s shin before he was standing to leave, “breakfast will be ready soon, I’ll bring it up for you.”

Merle smiled and nodded, eyes gleaming at the mention of food, and Rick smiled back, thoroughly amused, before he was leaving the cell and leaving the elder Dixon to his own devices. Rick immediately went to lockup and looked around, collecting a duffel bag before scraping the assorted piles of ammunition they had strewn about into it. He didn’t know why they hadn’t thought of this before, and supposed that with all the excitement of fighting off the Governor and keeping Merle alive it hadn’t really crossed their minds, and none of them had military experience but Merle. He found a notepad and pencil in a locker and stuffed them into his pocket before he was slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and making his way to the common room to get their breakfasts.

He brought their breakfasts and the duffel bag up to Merle and Daryl’s cell and smiled upon finding the elder Dixon dozing, limbs strewn about the tiny cot wildly. Merle spent a lot of time going in and out of fitful sleep, resting his healing body, and not a day went by when Rick and the others didn’t think that it was a miracle that Merle had survived. Some days were worse than others, leaving Merle shivering in pain, teeth clenched and limbs trembling, breath coming in short pants, only able to take non-opioid pain killers lest he start having seizures again. Rick was glad that Merle was sleeping peacefully now, his pain at a manageable level thanks to Caleb and Daryl’s care.

He knocked on the bars, smiling when the other man snuffled awake, his eyes rolling open blearily before he groaned and stretched. Merle’s eyes landed on him and he smiled drowsily, sunlight hitting the wall beside him and bathing him and the cell in soft, morning light, and Rick smiled back, stepping inside and setting their breakfasts on Daryl’s cot before he was speaking.

“I brought breakfast, and I’ve got some ammunition for you to count and sort,” Rick said, lifting the bag to show him before setting it beside Merle’s cot and pulling the notepad and pencil out of his pocket and setting them on top of it, “n’I found a notepad and pencil.”

“Tha’s great” Merle breathed sleepily, and grunted as he tried to sit up.

Rick helped him to sit up again, arm sliding behind his back, and he felt Merle grip his shoulder for purchase as they worked together to get him upright.

“Thanks…” Merle said softly, squeezing his shoulder gently before he was letting him go, and Rick withdrew.

He handed Merle his breakfast before sitting on the chair beside his cot and tucking into his own, smiling when the other man did the same. Merle was completely able to feed himself now, albeit slowly and with a little difficulty, but it was something that he was fiercely proud of, being self-sufficient despite everything.

They sat together and ate, making idle conversation about the prison and its inhabitants, talking about the others, about their Woodbury residents, before Rick was leaving the other man alone again, needing to help the others out with odd jobs around the prison. 

\--

Rick entered the cell again a few hours later to check on the older Dixon, finding Merle surrounded by piles of ammunition that he’d sorted through, and suppressed a smile at the way the tip of Merle’s tongue stuck out from between his lips in concentration. He just watched for a few moments, finding himself very amused by the face that Merle was pulling, fully focussed on the task at hand, before he was making his presence known.

“Hey” he said softly.

Merle jumped, eyes finding his, wide with surprise, and Rick felt warmth bloom in his chest at the way his tongue retreated back into his mouth before he smiled shyly at him, his ears going pink.

“Hey” Merle said in return, placing the bullet in his fingers in one of the piles.

“Wow, you work fast” Rick said, thoroughly impressed, his eyes drifting over the piles that Merle had sorted the bullets into.

Merle just smiled up at him, starting to sort again as Rick sat on Daryl’s cot on the other side of the cell. For a while there was no sound but for the clink of metal against metal as Merle took a handful of ammo, dropped it in his lap, picked through it, and then sorted the ammunition into their designated piles, then repeated the process.

“S’nice to have somethin’ productive to do,” Merle said softly, finally breaking the silence, “I don’t do well with nothin’ to do. Idle hands an’ all…”

Rick smiled at him, nodding his understanding, Merle didn’t strike him as the type to be able to sit still for long, it must be torture being confined to a cell. The thought reminded him that Merle had actually been to jail, a number of times from what he’d gleaned from Daryl, and he wondered how he’d handled it then.

“How’d you handle being in prison before?” he asked before he could stop himself, and immediately regretted the question, knowing that it was a touchy subject.

Merle looked hurt for a millisecond, smile fading rapidly before his guard was slamming back up, and Rick felt a massive loss. They’d come to some sort of tentative companionship that he felt had been teetering on the side of budding friendship, and Rick was worried he’d burnt that bridge before it’d even been able to be built.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…” he said, moving closer and patting Merle’s upper arm gently, a safe zone that he knew Merle didn’t mind too much.

Merle seemed to pause, thinking about something, before he was settling his handful of ammunition down between his knees and then reaching up and patting Rick’s hand with his own and smiling weakly.

“I didn’t handle it well,” Merle said quietly, “I got into a lot of fights and ended up in solitary a lot…”

Rick nodded, listening intently, finding that he wanted to know more about Merle. Merle didn’t elaborate further, sighing instead and starting to pick through the pile, and Rick withdrew, trying not to be too disappointed that Merle wouldn’t say more. He supposed that they’d have the opportunity to bond later down the line; for now he was just happy that the two of them were on mutually friendly terms.

“I started a tally in the notepad,” Merle said, changing the subject, before he was giving a sheepish smile and shrugging with a raspy chuckle, holding the notepad out for Rick to take, “well, I tried to, my handwriting ain’t great.”

Rick chuckled in return and took the notepad from Merle, glancing over the contents of Merle’s list before he was smiling at the other man and handing it back.

“That’s great, Merle, hopefully the others will bring some ammo back so we can replenish some of this” Rick said, and Merle smiled and nodded. 

“I can clean and maintain the guns too,” Merle said, eyes flicking around the room uncertainly, “might take me a while, but I can do it…”

“That’d be great, Merle…” Rick said, smiling encouragingly, “maybe that can be a job for tomorrow? I can help you down to lockup.”

Merle smiled back, fingers brushing at the sheets in a shy motion, making the ammunition in his lap jingle softly, before he nodded and Rick nodded back at him, and a plan was made.

“I’ve gotta help Carol with dinner,” Rick said, breaking the moment, “I’ll bring you some food when it’s ready.”

“Thanks, Rick…” Merle smiled.

By the time dinner rolled around, Merle had finished sorting through the ammunition, had noted his counts in the notepad and had put them away in boxes he planned to label. He’d counted them four times after sorting, wanting to be thorough in his count, and before he knew it it was dinner time and Rick and Carol were both joining him, Rick in the chair beside his cot and Carol sitting cross legged beside him, their knees brushing companionably.

\--

Merle woke to a weight settling in beside him on the cot and was immediately on edge, ready to go into fight or flight, before he recognised Daryl’s scent and immediately calmed again. He felt a rush of sleep-dampened excitement and affection and did the only thing he could in his half-asleep state; he rolled over and wrapped his brother in a hug and squashed himself against Daryl, prematurely, judging by the face full of stomach he got.

“Hey brother” Daryl said softly, settling a hand atop Merle’s curls and chuckling as Merle squeezed him, nose buried in the soft space below his ribs.

“Missed you…” Merle said softly, muffled against Daryl’s belly.

“I was only gone for two days, Mer” Daryl laughed, stroking his hair.

“I know, baby brother…” Merle said, and Daryl felt his heart melt when Merle nuzzled at him, breathing in his scent, “still missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mer,” Daryl said, voice fond and warm, and Merle shivered when he rubbed his back for a few tender moments before he was speaking again, “c’mon, let’s get more comfortable.”

Merle grumbled a little, apparently content to stay right where he was, but Daryl persisted and shifted so that they were more level, Merle’s head against his shoulder and his arm over his waist. Merle sighed once they were settled, shutting his eyes and nuzzling his brother’s shoulder for a few moments before they were lapsing into easy conversation. 

“What’d you get up to while I was gone?” Daryl asked.

“Sorted all our ammo” Merle said, yawning widely.

“Your idea?” Daryl asked.

“Mm…” Merle hummed tiredly.

“That’s great, Mer…” Daryl said warmly, rubbing his side and revelling in the smile he felt against his shoulder.

“D’you find anythin’ on the run?” Merle mumbled.

“Found some seeds, for carrots and parsnips I think,” Daryl said, “so hopefully we’ll get somethin’ growin’ soon. Maybe you can help out with that…”

Merle nodded his agreement, and Daryl felt him teetering on the edge of slumber.

“When we were at the farm, Andrea gave me a book,” Daryl said softly, “when we had to leave I lost it, but I found another copy, n’I think you’ll like it.”

Merle hummed happily against him, as excitedly as he could muster on the cusp of sleep, and Daryl hugged him closer with a tender smile. He decided to let his brother rest; they could talk in the morning; and started to rub Merle’s back gently, revelling in the way Merle shivered happily. He dared to sneak a hand up the back of Merle’s shirt, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet of the cell, and paused, allowing Merle to stop him if he wanted, and Merle tensed for but a moment before he was relaxing, trusting him completely.

Daryl swallowed at the show of trust, more than a little stunned, and started to rub Merle's back again gently. It was even better being able to touch him skin to skin, and he knew that Merle felt the same because his brother went absolutely boneless against him, letting out a fragile, shuddering sigh as he melted. His fingers found a scar on Merle’s shoulder blade and traced it lovingly before they were finding other scars and giving them the same treatment, and he was stunned when Merle started to tremble after a few minutes, his breath coming in shudders.

He realised that Merle was sobbing quietly, and paused for a few moments, his brow creasing in concern. Merle had never cried in front of him before. He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of Merle’s head as his fingers found the largest scar on Merle’s back and caressed it, and his brother was done, huffing a trembling breath against his collarbone as the wetness of tears spread across his skin.

He started to hum the song that Merle used to hum to him when they were kids and felt Merle’s sobs continue, felt him shuddering, overwhelmed with emotion, felt his fingers curl into his shirt. He remembered that when they were kids Merle would curl around him, his back to the door, protecting him, and would hum into his ear so he couldn’t hear the screaming match their parents were in down the hallway. They’d not had good lives, but Merle had always tried to make it better, had tried to be there, and he knew that Merle held a lot of guilt and self-loathing inside him at the thought that he’d not been there enough, that he believed that he wasn’t good enough.

He finished his ministrations, knowing that he’d given each scar on Merle’s back the same attention and love, and set to rubbing Merle’s back gently, fingers caressing his skin in affectionate whorls every so often. Merle had gone lax against him again a while ago, though he could feel his lashes brushing his throat as Merle blinked dazedly, and they lay in silence for a long while.

“Thank you…” Merle whispered tiredly, breaking the silence.

Daryl just pressed another kiss to his forehead and pulled him closer, cupping the back of his head and stroking at Merle’s hair with one hand while the other settled on his back, his thumb resting in the divot of Merle’s spine, right between his shoulder blades. He felt Merle’s Adam’s apple bob against his shoulder a few times as Merle swallowed, trying to reign in the lingering emotional tidal wave he’d just felt, and Daryl pressed another kiss to the top of his head.

They lay like that for a long time, so long that Daryl had nearly dropped off into sleep, when Merle shifted in his arms, moving impossibly closer so that they were pressed chest to chest, and tucked his head under his chin. Daryl’s heart fluttered with joy when Merle came out of hiding in a stilted and unpractised but determined motion to press a kiss to his cheek, before tucking his head back under his chin.

Daryl grinned, his breath catching in his chest, and he rubbed Merle’s back firmly, putting all of his affection into the motion. Merle smiled against his throat, nuzzling against his jugular, and they sighed in tandem, finally settling in for sleep. Daryl felt his brother’s breath evening out against his skin, felt Merle’s body going lax against him, and smiled when he felt him drop off into sleep, before he was following suit right behind him.


	13. Refectory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shall re-read this tomorrow and make any edits if I need to :)

The next day dawned and Merle woke with the sun, warm and content, pressed firmly against his brother’s side, and watched the ceiling as the sun rose and started to illuminate the cell, before he was turning his attention to Daryl’s face. Daryl was still sleeping, breathing deep and even, and Merle smiled contentedly, nuzzling against Daryl’s shoulder gently before he drifted back to sleep, calmed by Daryl’s heartbeat. He was woken again by a hand rubbing his back in firm, even strokes, and he breathed in deeply before he was opening his eyes to meet Daryl’s matching pair.

“Mornin’,” Daryl said, smiling softly, “y’hungry?”

Merle nodded, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, and released Daryl from his hold when his brother made to climb out of the cot. Daryl carded his fingers through his hair then cupped his face in his hand, stroking his cheekbone gently before he was leaving the cell, and Merle watched him leave with a sigh and an affectionate smile.

Daryl returned quickly, looking troubled, his smile a little strained, and Merle looked at him questioningly as he took his bowl of food from him, raising a questioning eyebrow as he started to eat.

“Rick tells me you’re gonna do some work down in lockup today cleaning the guns,” Daryl said as he sat down, and Merle heard tension seeping into his tone, “d’y’think you’re really up for that?”

Merle nodded eagerly, chewing his bite and swallowing.

“Yeah, I’d like to have somethin’ to do,” Merle said, “they need maintenance, n’I was the one who suggested it, so…”

Daryl eyed him critically, pursing his lips, and Merle frowned, a little confused by his expression.

“Jus’… Jus’ don’t push yourself too hard, Mer…” Daryl said, “this isn’t a cold or somethin’, you were shot in the chest.”

“Daryl, I’ll be fine,” he said, putting his spoon down in favour of reaching out to touch Daryl’s arm, “I’m jus’ gonna be sittin’ there, cleanin’ the guns…”

“You only have three fingers, for fuck’s sake, Merle,” Daryl snapped, jerking his arm away and hitting the bed with a fist, and Merle squashed down a flinch, schooling his features with long practised ease, “you’ve got broken ribs, a broken arm. You should be _restin’_.”

“S’not like I’m runnin’ marathons, Daryl, I’ll still be restin’, I’ll be in one spot the whole time,” Merle said, a little exasperated by Daryl’s attitude, “y’can’t expect me to just _sit_ here, I’ll go insane. I promise you that if I start to feel unwell, I’ll get someone n’stop.”

“Yeah, how could I forget? You do whatever you want,” Daryl hissed, and Merle frowned, “s’what you always do, regardless of what other people think.”

“I’m fine, baby brother,” Merle said, ignoring the barb as he tried to deescalate the situation, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“ ** _You nearly died!_** ” Daryl yelled suddenly, his eyes flashing wild and angry, and Merle couldn’t hide his flinch when Daryl punched the wall beside his head.

His eyes slammed shut, brain going to white noise, his muscles bunching, his heart beginning to race, thudding rapidly in his chest, and tension started to gather in his neck and back as he hunched, instinctively making himself smaller. He hadn’t done this since he was a child, drawing away from his father’s fists and hurtful words, and it rendered him a little breathless just how easily he slipped into his old habits. He’d not cowered from anyone since he’d turned eighteen, since he’d left home and never looked back, and he knew in his heart, in every cell in his body, that Daryl would never hit him, would never hurt him intentionally, but his body had seized up regardless and refused to relax.

Finally, the fuzz in his brain started to recede and he heard voices, felt fingers at his wrist, taking his pulse, felt them prodding at his face and lifting his eyelids, saw bright, bright light in his eyes, felt himself flinch at a loud, sharp noise near his ear, heard his name being called, but found that he couldn’t respond. His remaining fingers ached with how hard he was gripping his sheets, the healing stumps screaming at him as his stitches pulled taut, grinding against the bandages and sheets, through to his palm, and he willed himself to let go so he wouldn’t hurt himself more.

“-unresponsive, but his pupils react to light… he still has a blink reaction to threat response,” a voice said, sounding like it was coming through a thick layer of mush, “has this happened before?”

“Yeah, sometimes after a bad beating from our dad he’d just curl up on his bed and stare into space… sometimes for hours…” Daryl said, his voice cracking a little, and Merle’s heart ached at his upset, “sometimes he’d be like that when I woke up. I just thought he wanted to be left alone.”

“He’s catatonic, Daryl,” Caleb said gently, “it’s very likely a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, given your pasts.”

Daryl was silent, processing what Caleb had said.

“I didn’t hit him. I swear I didn’t,” Daryl said, his voice a sharp edge of worry and upset and guilt, “I would _never_ …”

“It can be triggered by practically anything, Daryl,” Caleb said soothingly, “they don’t need to be physical, they can range from sounds to smells, tastes to-”

“Noises…” Merle rasped as he finally surfaced, his eyes focussing, fixated on the opposite cot.

He swallowed, his throat dry as a bone, and his eyes slid to find his glass of water, the motion sluggish and hazy. He reached for it, almost knocking it over, his fingers clumsy and sore, before he gripped it and brought it to his mouth and drank, soothing his parched throat. He looked up, finding Caleb at his side and Daryl at the foot of the cot, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with overwhelmed relief.

Caleb checked the older Dixon over, taking his pulse and checking his response to light again, taking a look at his bullet wounds and his truncated fingers, checking his ribs and his broken arm, before he was sitting back with a smile, apparently deeming him okay. He gave Merle his morning pain killers, watching as he swallowed them, before he was giving a departing pat to Merle’s shoulder and then doing the same to Daryl’s before he was leaving the cell. There was silence for a few moments, and Merle watched as Daryl eyed him warily, wringing his hands nervously, before Daryl was breaking the silence.

“M’sorry, Mer…” Daryl whimpered.

Merle lifted his arms, albeit tiredly, gesturing at his brother for a hug, and Daryl stepped forward, holding his gaze as he climbed onto the bed and pulled him into his arms, and Merle sighed, burying his face in Daryl’s shoulder.

“S’okay, Dar…” Merle said, still feeling fuzzy, “m’alright.”

“M’just worried about you, Mer,” Daryl mumbled into his throat, “all the time…”

“I’ll be okay, baby brother,” Merle said, “I promise…”

Daryl nodded before nuzzling against him, and Merle squeezed him gently.

“I have to help out with the fences today,” Daryl said, “but I’ll come eat lunch with you… n’I’ll visit you in lockup if I can.”

Merle nodded his understanding, smiling at the fact that Daryl had accepted his wish to be out of bed, and looked up when Rick appeared in the doorway, rapping his knuckles on the bars and smiling at the two of them as they parted reluctantly.

“Mornin’” Rick said.

“Mornin’” Merle greeted him in return.

“Y’ready to go out to the fences, Daryl?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, m’ready” Daryl nodded, wiping his face on his sleeve before he was climbing off the cot and moving to retrieve his crossbow from the corner of the cell.

“I’ll meet you out there,” Rick said, “m’gonna help Merle down to lockup.”

“See you out there,” Daryl said, “I’ll see you at lunch, Mer…”

Merle smiled and nodded and maintained eye contact with his brother until he’d left the cell, before he was turning his attention to Rick.

“It’s a little cold down there,” Rick said, “y’might wanna rug up a bit.”

“Oh, okay, uh…” Merle said, looking around at he and Daryl’s clothing, looking for something warm.

His eyes alighted on Daryl’s poncho, folded up on the opposite cot, and he pulled it on with Rick’s help, feeling a little ridiculous, but it smelt like Daryl, and it was already warming him up, so he didn’t much care. He accepted Rick’s help in the form of a gentle, strong arm around his waist, and together they made their way to lockup before Rick settled him in a chair, organised a few unloaded guns near him, and then left him to his own devices with a friendly goodbye.

\--

Hours passed quickly in the lockup room, and Merle was enjoying being out of the cell very much, though he wished he had a radio or a music player to listen to. It’d been a struggle to begin with, figuring out how to take the guns apart with his lack of appendages, but he somehow managed, and had gotten into a flow of sorts, engrossed in his work.

“Hey” came a voice from the doorway, soft and unthreatening, but it still made him jump.

He whipped around to look at them, finding Rick in the doorway, smiling softly, and he returned the smile, finishing cleaning the barrel and putting it down with the other pieces.

“Hey” he said back, gesturing for Rick to take the seat opposite him.

Rick stepped inside, shoes tapping against the concrete as he came closer, and Merle’s smile widened when the other man sat. Their relationship had improved vastly in the last day and a half alone, and now there was barely any animosity between them, and Merle knew the other man would want to talk eventually, but also knew that he’d respect his need to take things slowly.

“You’re very organised” Rick commented, eyes tracking over the disassembled gun, and Merle flushed a little despite himself.

“Yeah, I like takin’ stuff apart…” he said, “I like workin’ with my hands… makin’ things. S’soothing… in a way.”

Rick smiled and looked at him, curiosity gleaming in his gaze, and Merle met his eyes for a few moments before his own were skittering away uncomfortably. There was silence for a long while as Merle started to reassemble the gun, his motions confident and well-practised, and Rick was a little mesmerised by how fluidly the other man worked despite his handicap.

“I used to make Daryl toys n’ stuff when we was kids,” Merle said softly, breaking the silence, “outta bottlecaps an’ sticks an’ things…”

Rick smiled, loving the titbit of a story, before he noticed that Merle was trembling a little.

“Dad found out one day and beat me bloody…” Merle said, and Rick’s heart broke.

“Over a toy?” he asked softly, sadness creeping into his tone.

Merle just nodded, eyes flicking up to meet his before going distant when he looked away.

“He didn’t need a reason most of the time…” he said, shrugging.

Rick didn’t reply, watching instead as Merle stared off into space, apparently dredging a memory up from somewhere in the depths of his mind and replaying it before he was snapping out of it and looking at him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this sort’a thing” Merle said, laughing wetly, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“No, no, I’m more than happy to listen any time, Merle,” Rick said, trying to sound reassuring, “please, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m all ears.”

Merle looked at him, ice blue eyes piercing through him, scrutinising him, flaying him apart and searching for any sign of a lie, and Rick sat under that intense, uncomfortable gaze for what felt like eternity, promising himself that he wouldn’t move until Merle understood his good intentions. He held that gaze, captivated by it, and was rendered a little breathless when Merle broke it, digging in his pocket and pulling out a little rocket made of bottle caps and wire, pieces of shrapnel and an empty shell casing.

“D’y’think Daryl will like it?” he asked, his voice low and unsure.

Rick could see deep, dark self-doubt in Merle’s eyes, and he realised that Merle was stressed about having been given a second chance, was terrified that he’d mess things up and be cast out again.

“He’ll love it, Merle,” Rick said, “it’s from you.”

Merle’s breath shuddered out of him and he gave a watery smile, the corners of his mouth trembling as he caressed the figurine with his thumb, before he was tucking it away again.

“I-I’m tryin’ to get better… to _be_ better…” Merle said, “I know I have a temper, n’I know I’m not… nice. But I’m _tryin_ ’-”

“You’re doing great,” Rick reassured, reaching out to touch Merle’s shoulder, “seriously, you’re doing really well.”

Merle’s expression broke his heart, terrified and broken but hopeful all at the same time.

“My thoughts have been a complete mess lately…” Merle said, “I’ve spent a lot of time just thinking about everything I’ve done. I want to change.”

“Coming close to dying does that to people” Rick said.

Merle laughed, grinning boyishly, and Rick grinned back, glad to see some mirth on his face.

“Lunch will be ready in five,” Rick said, “we’d love to have you in the common room.”

“Thanks, Rick,” Merle said, “I’ll just put this back together n’then I’ll join you up there.”

Rick smiled and gave a singular nod before he was leaving, and Merle watched him leave before turning his attention back to the rifle and beginning to put it back together with practised ease.

\--

He made his way into the common area for lunch, for the first time in a while, and froze as everyone looked up at him, flushing a little at the attention when he saw a few smiles. He itched to fidget, to tug on his shirt, but stopped himself, and instead mumbled a greeting before making his way to the kitchenette, where Carol was stirring the day’s lunch meal. She smiled broadly at him as he approached, her eyes lighting up at his presence, and he smiled shyly at her, dumbfounded when she moved to hug him gently, keeping the contact brief. He hugged her back none the less, ears tinging red and heart thudding happily in his chest as he patted her back, somewhat awkwardly.

“You’re finally out of bed!” she said as she drew back.

“Yeah, I was goin’ nuts up there,” he said, “been workin’ on maintainin’ the guns in lockup. Daryl ain’t so happy about it, but…”

He smiled impishly and shrugged, cautious of his injured shoulder, and she laughed, making his chest swell with an odd emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“It’s so good to see you up and about, Merle…” she said softly, eyes sparkling cheerfully.

He felt his ears flush and cursed his complexion, but smiled at her, glad that the corners of his mouth only wobbled a little. She returned his smile and patted his good arm, and she stared at him tenderly for a few moments, lingering until he looked away, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Go and sit down, Merle, I’ll bring you your food,” she said quietly, noticing his pallor under the blush, “I hope you’re hungry, ‘cause you’re on orders to eat more, mister.”

He laughed but did as he was told, squeezing her forearm before making his way to the tables and looking around for a spot where he could sit on his own, smiling and ducking his head in greeting when he made eye contact with Maggie and Glenn. They hadn’t been to visit him, and he still felt their animosity towards him, and he decided that he would attempt to apologise later.

He shuffled over to an empty table, setting his book down and wincing as he sat, his broken arm aching, his chest burning, and he took a moment to steel himself, to fight down the pain, before reaching over to open his book to the first page. He held it open with his remaining fingers, beginning to read quietly as he waited for Carol to bring him his food, and looked up as she walked to his side, setting his food down beside his elbow.

“Reading again, huh?” she teased lightly, smiling at him affectionately.

He smiled up at her, nodding, and she carded a hand through his hair briefly, enjoying the way his eyes slid shut and his face went slack, relaxing, and she repeated the motion for a few moments, revelling in the way he leant back against her. She’d learnt during his stint in his cot that stroking his hair or rubbing behind his ears made him melt, and she’d used it many times to get him to sleep when he was struggling.

“What’re you reading?” she asked softly, daring to stroke behind his ear.

“ _The Case of the Missing Man_ …” he mumbled, eyes still shut softly, offering the book for her to read the back, “Daryl found it yesterday on the supply run, said Andrea gave it to him when y’all were at the farm but he lost it… said it was good…”

She hummed interestedly, reading the blurb quickly, fingernails scratching gently at his hairline.

“Sounds good” she said softly before setting it back down in front of him.

He shifted, looking up at her and smiling lazily, and she smiled back, stroking the shell of his ear and cupping his neck in her palm before she turned to leave him to it and return to her post.

“Eat all of it Merle, I’ll be checking!” she called over her shoulder.

He flushed and laughed, but smiled all the same, nodding his understanding before turning to his food and stirring it idly. He wasn’t hungry, the wound in his chest wrecking his appetite, but he knew he had to eat, had to get his strength up, and blew on it before spooning some into his mouth. It was hard to eat without the additional leverage of his last two fingers, his grip on the spoon awkward and clumsy, hard to eat without being able to hold the bowl in the crook of his elbow to keep it steady, and he was suddenly hyperaware of the others’ attention on him. The stew was delicious and hearty and warm, and he knew that under any other circumstance he’d already be halfway through it, but the pain slowed him significantly. He continued to read, taking a few bites of stew every few pages, and slowly he lost himself in the book, forgot all about the others and their curious, prying eyes.

He was jerked from his reverie when Daryl situated himself across from him, and smiled broadly at his brother, shivering happily when Daryl reached over to squeeze his forearm in greeting. Daryl smiled back, putting his own bowl down and tilting Merle’s with a curious finger so he could peer inside and inspect its contents, frowning at how little Merle had eaten. His food was still only half-eaten, and Merle knew he’d be getting an earful from Carol.

“Y’need to eat the rest, Mer…” Daryl said firmly.

He pushed the bowl closer before tugging the book away from him, marking the page before closing it and tucking it under his arm. Merle pouted, eyeing his book forlornly, and pulled the stew closer, picking the spoon up and stirring it sulkily. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, felt ill at the thought of eating, of feeling that burning pain, and pushed it away. Daryl frowned, pushing the bowl closer again and watched him concernedly, and Merle shook his head, anticipating an argument as he looked down at his lunch dejectedly.

“Wha’s wrong?” Daryl asked quietly instead, unused to Merle outright refusing food.

“My chest hurts… I must’a pushed myself too hard…” Merle admitted with a grunt, looking up at him, grateful that Daryl hadn’t started a fight over it and had instead chosen to listen, “n’my fingers are aching...”

Daryl smiled sympathetically but pushed the stew closer anyway, standing and walking around the table to sit beside him instead. Merle watched him as he walked around, and Daryl smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist gently and squeezing him before letting up, mindful of his brother’s aversion to public displays of affection and of his healing chest and ribs.

“You’ll feel better when you get your strength back and you’re all healed up…” he said quietly, pressing painkillers into Merle’s palm, “I know it sucks, but you’ve gotta try, Mer…”

Merle nodded, pursing his lips, before tipping the pain killers into his mouth, picking up his spoon, and beginning to eat, grateful when Daryl reached out wordlessly to hold his bowl still for him, making it easier to scoop food out of the bowl. Daryl finished his own food long before he did, and they talked as he made his way through his stew, eating slowly and pausing every now and then to steel himself and catch his breath, and they felt the bond between them blooming at being able to sit together and just talk, in public of all places.

Merle enjoyed the warmth his brother provided at his side, had found himself becoming cold easily as he healed, body struggling to maintain a stable temperature, and he leaned into Daryl’s side, uncaring of what the others thought, and Daryl smiled, content to enjoy the contact while he could.

“Want to go back to the cell?” Daryl asked almost half an hour later, “y’look exhausted, brother…”

Merle nodded, huffing a quiet sigh, and stood with some difficulty, picking up their bowls and walking them over to Carol with a smile.

“Thanks, Mouse…” he said softly.

“My pleasure, Merle,” she replied, “now, go and get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am” he joked, grinning impishly, and she laughed, smacking his good arm lightly before shoving him gently in the direction of his brother.

He joined his sibling, and Daryl wrapped his arm around his own, linking their elbows before leading him towards their cell. Daryl helped him up the stairs, letting him pause midway up the railing to pant and grit his teeth, gripping the handrail hard. The pain had gotten better over the last week but was still a constant burning in his chest and arm, and Merle hadn’t wandered far from the cell until today, knowing it would mean more pain from the exertion. Lockup was as far as he’d gotten so far, despite his longing to go outside and feel the sun on his face, to feel the breeze in his hair, and he made a mental note to ask Daryl to help him walk outside sometime in the next few days, just for a little while.

Eventually they reached the cell, and Merle settled into his cot with a deep sigh, lying back and gazing up at his brother, and Daryl smiled back, reaching to pat his shoulder and set the book on the chair beside the cot.

“I still need to help Rick with fortifying the fences,” Daryl said, “I’ll be back later.”

Merle nodded up at him, linking their fingers briefly and stroking Daryl’s thumb with his own, and Daryl smiled, leaning over to stroke his forehead with a warm palm. They smiled at each other for a few tender moments before Daryl was tucking the sheets around his sibling, making sure he was comfortable and warm, and then he was turning and leaving the cell with gentle instruction for him to get some sleep. Merle listened to Daryl’s footsteps as he walked away, waited until he could no longer hear his presence, before he was whispering into the empty air, wishing again that he was brave enough to say it aloud.

“I love you, Daryl…” he rasped, then he rolled over and drifted off to sleep.


	14. Apology

Merle returned to lockup the next morning to continue cleaning the guns, and Daryl joined him for a while, watching his brother as he worked and helping him when Merle asked, before he was having to go and help Rick with the fences, leaving Merle alone again. He and Daryl had eaten dinner in their cell instead of joining the others the night before, had opted to spend the night together and bond, sharing affectionate touches, talking and laughing. The events of the previous morning had shaken Daryl a lot, he had thought on what had happened the entire day day and he was now feeling even more affectionate and protective, and it made Merle feel warm inside to be reminded that Daryl cared so much.

Merle got into a rhythm, pulling a gun apart and setting all the pieces out on the table in the same way he always had, cleaning the pieces thoroughly and then reassembling the gun before setting the gun aside and getting another one. It was nice to have something to do, he’d always enjoyed working with his hands, maintaining things and fixing them when they broke, took pride in being self taught in how to fix cars and appliances around the house.

A few hours later he had finished cleaning all the guns and so he started working on the toy rocket he was making for his brother, deciding to add a few extra details to it. He found a washer and wrapped wire around it before wrapping the wire around the body of the rocket and affixing it there, making it look like a little window on the front. He smiled at his handiwork, looking around the room for other things to add to it, and found a tiny piece of scrap metal, rectangular and slightly curved. He grinned as he sat it against the body of the rocket, finding that it fit perfectly, a tiny door for the tiny rocket, and wrapped wire around it to fasten it, wishing he had soldering gear.

He looked up at the sound of voices and laughter coming from the hallway, and listened to hear who they were, realising that it was Glenn and Maggie. He swallowed, a wave of guilt washing over him as he remembered the last time they’d been in the same room, in the very room he was in at the moment, remembering the way he’d goaded Glenn, had nearly killed him when their fight came to blows. He’d done a lot of things in his life that he wasn’t proud of, that he had refused to look back on for a long time, and had never really apologised for wronging and hurting people.

They rounded the corner and walked into the room, and Merle looked up at them, realising quickly that they didn’t know that he was there and were probably hoping for a quiet place to talk. They were holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes and laughing, grinning at each other, lost in their own world, staring at each other with so much love that his heart clenched. They suddenly seemed to realise that he was there, their gazes snapping to him and their conversation grinding to a halt, their faces dropping to careful neutrality as they looked at him, and he froze in place, peering up at them. 

For a few long, painful moments there was dead silence, and he swallowed, eyes dropping to the table nervously before he was peering back up at them, feeling decidedly like a kicked dog. He knew how he looked now, sunken and thin, drained, half the man he had been, much smaller and much more docile. He was unarmed, his prosthetic and its attached blade having been put away and forgotten about while his arm healed, and he wondered at the fact that he no longer felt like he needed it on inside the prison. He’d never much cared for people’s opinions of him, and that hadn’t really changed over the last week and a half, but he felt the need to fit in now, being that they were hopefully all going to live together for the foreseeable future. 

“Hi…” he greeted softly, smiling at them.

They gave strained smiles in return.

“What’re you doing down here?” Glenn asked after a beat, his tone doctored to be curious and not accusatory.

“I was cleanin’ the guns… seemed like a good idea to make sure they’re maintained. Rick thought so too” he said, and they nodded their agreement.

They lapsed into silence again for a few more moments, and Merle fiddled idly with the rocket in his hand, his anxiety steadily rising.

“What’s that?” Maggie asked with genuine interest, nodding at the toy in his hand, and he blinked up at her for a moment.

“It’s- it’s a rocket… I made it out of scrap n’ stuff,” he said softly, “I used to make ‘lil toys for Daryl when we were kids n’I thought I’d surprise him with it.”

A flicker of compassion and budding affection passed over Maggie’s eyes at that, and he hesitated for a second before he was offering it up for her to look at, holding it out for her to take. She stepped away from Glenn’s side, much to the other man’s displeasure, and took it from him gently, bringing it up to look at it, rotating it to look at it from all angles..

“This is really cute, Merle,” she said a few moments later, before she was handing it back to him, “he’ll love it.”

He smiled and took it back from her, enclosing it in his palm before he was tucking it away into his pocket. He caught the glint of a ring on her finger as she withdrew her hand, his eyes drawn to it immediately, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Y’all got engaged?” he asked.

“Yeah, he asked me two weeks ago” Maggie said, smiling in return, and hesitated for a second before she was holding her hand out so he could see the ring, so he could take her hand.

He blinked at her in surprise for a few heartbeats, his eyebrows rising a little, and then he took her hand gently, cupping her fingers in his carefully, and looked at the ring, inspecting it for a few moments before he was letting go of her hand, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

“Congratulations” he said with a smile, meeting Glenn’s gaze and nodding at him.

The other man nodded his thanks, his face was still neutral and his eyes were still hard, but he’d softened considerably, and Merle felt some of the tension in the air dissipate when Glenn attempted a genuine smile.

“Well, we were looking for somewhere quiet,” Maggie said softly, “so we’ll leave you to it. We’ll see you at lunch?”

He smiled and nodded, watching them as they started to leave together, when he realised that he needed to say something else, and he needed to do it now, now that they’d come to a very tentative truce. He steeled himself and stood as they reached the doorway, his feet holding him upright determinedly, albeit a little unsteadily. 

“Hey, uhh… actually, wait up a second…” he called, his heart starting to race, thudding hard in his chest.

They turned to look at him and he swallowed nervously, he didn’t know what he was doing or what to say, but he’d realised that it was high time that he grew up and apologised, even if they didn’t accept it. He needed to do it alone, of his own volition, and it had to be genuine. He had found while he had been confined to his cot, through his many hours of soul-searching, that he really was genuinely sorry that his actions had caused them so much pain.

“Can I… can I talk to you for a moment?” Merle asked, beginning to fidget nervously with the bandages around his arm before opting to tug at the hem of Daryl’s poncho instead.

They paused, looking at each other before seeming to come to a decision, and they didn’t reply, just looked at him expectantly, moving closer again to hear him out. He sighed in relief, eyes drifting shut as he smiled, and he opened them again to consider them.

“Thank you…” he breathed.

They gave very reluctant half smiles in response and he realised after a minute of silence that he needed to speak.

“I-I wanted to apologise… I know it don’t mean squat coming from me, but…I’m sorry for what happened in Woodbury,” he started, faltering a little as emotion took over and his face twisted into an earnest expression, “I really am. If I’d have known he’d… if I could go back with the clarity I have now… I… I would  _ never _ have let it happen…”

He could feel his heart hammering rapidly beneath his ribs, could feel his chest going tight, his lungs struggling to draw breath, and his anxiety only ramped up when Glenn glared at him, taking a step towards him.

“Did Daryl put you up to this?” Glenn asked icily, almost hissing the words.

“No, I-I really wanted to apologise,” Merle said, shaking his head, “I’ve been thinking on it for a while now.”

“Sure you have” Glenn scoffed disbelievingly, and Maggie nudged him reproachfully, frowning.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, for everything I’ve done to hurt you… for the fight in this room, for everything in Atlanta and the quarry, for torturing you in Woodbury,” he said, and he could feel himself getting light headed, could hear himself rambling on and on, but couldn’t seem to stop himself, “I was so desperate to get Daryl back that I didn’t even think about what could happen. I had no idea that the Governor would be that way, I swear… if I’d have been there I would have put a stop to it…”

Merle had known that this was a bad idea, he wasn’t good with apologies, wasn’t good with words or people, and the things he’d done were unforgivable. He hadn’t expected them to forgive him, knew he had no right to expect them to forgive him, but it still hurt that they seemingly wouldn’t even listen to him.

“I’m sorry…” he said breathlessly, chest suddenly too tight to breathe, “I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

Maggie frowned and stepped forward, and he flinched away, his eyes slamming shut and his fist clenching in the poncho, turning his head away to protect his face as her hands came up, taking a shuddering breath in, too shallow to ease his light-headedness. He knew he deserved to be hit, to be punished, and forced himself to stand up straight, offering his face and waiting for her to strike him, waiting to atone for his sins. He braced himself for pain as he heard her shuffle closer, and flinched again, swallowing.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down, Merle?” Maggie’s voice came softly, close to his ear, and her hands were gentle on his arm and ribs when she touched him, “Merle, come on, sit down. Here’s your chair…”

He opened his eyes, his vision hazy, and he was confused and a little dazed, and he felt his brain go fuzzy, struggling to get enough oxygen through his shallow, panting breaths, felt his heart racing in his chest. He didn’t know what was happening and was immediately worried that the wound in his chest had opened back up, and looked away from her concerned face and looked down, pawing clumsily at his chest through the poncho, looking for blood. He felt both hot and cold, hand tingling in sharp bursts, and he felt nauseous, and he wondered just what was happening.

“Hey, shh, you’re okay. Merle, you’re okay,” Maggie reassured, seeming to understand his distress, “Glenn, I think he’s having a panic attack.”

“I’ll get Daryl,” Glenn said with a worry in his voice that Merle was surprised by, “I’ll be right back.”

She guided Merle to his chair carefully, and he let her help him sit down, practically collapsing into the chair as he gasped for air.

“Merle, try to breathe, okay?” she said, fingers brushing his skin, “you’re okay, just breathe… Daryl’s coming, it’s alright.”

He tried to listen, to follow her instructions, to heed her reassurances, but continued to gasp for air, fingers clenching in his brother’s poncho, his heart thundering in his chest and his breath stuttering from his lungs.

Then Daryl’s familiar, warm hands were on his cheeks and his face was swimming into view, and suddenly it became a little easier to breathe.

“Hey Mer, I’m here” Daryl cooed, meeting his eyes, “I’m here, brother…”

Merle looked at him, eyes wide, and raised his remaining hand shakily to cover one of Daryl’s.

“Look at me Mer,” Daryl said, “jus’ look at me… c’mon, breathe.”

Merle gasped for air, his lungs finally filling with a big, heaving breath, and Daryl breathed along with him calmly, prompting Merle to replicate his breaths, and slowly Merle’s breathing evened out, the white edges of his vision receding and his heart rate slowing down.

“There you go, Mer…” Daryl said, smiling softly.

Merle wrapped his arms around Daryl’s neck and buried his face in his throat, breathing in his familiar scent, and felt Daryl pull him closer, felt his arms wind around him as he burrowed into Daryl’s chest. He felt his lip wobble, a precursor to the overwhelmed sob that ripped its way out of his chest, and Daryl pulled him closer, held him even tighter as he shuddered against him, swallowing as he tried not to cry. 

Merle still wasn’t comfortable with crying, knew that it would be a long time before he’d be able to do it freely, but he’d gotten much more comfortable with Daryl’s affection, so he just pressed in closer, letting Daryl hold him, letting him rub his back and coo in his ear.

He drew away from Daryl’s chest what felt like an eternity later, sniffling quietly and peering up at his brother’s beloved face.

“Y’okay?” Daryl asked quietly.

He nodded, sighing and smiling, his face tinging a little red when he realised that Glenn and Maggie were still in the room, Glenn looking awkward and Maggie looking concerned. Merle continued to look at them, and settled his ear back against Daryl’s chest, over his heart, burrowing against him again and sighing when Daryl wrapped him in another hug and moved closer.

Merle let his eyes close, listening to his brother’s heartbeat, and heard him humming softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. He listened for a few minutes, feeling Daryl’s hands on his back and head, stroking soothingly and reassuringly, felt Daryl’s fingers wrap around his wrist to take his pulse every now and then. When he had finally calmed completely he opened his eyes again, meeting Maggie’s gaze and smiling shyly, embarrassment tinting his ears pink.

“I forgive you, Merle” Maggie said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently, and his heart thudded hard under his ribs, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“If she forgives you, then I do too” Glenn said after a moment of consideration, and Merle knew he meant it, though it didn’t mean that they would magically be getting along now, they still had a lot to talk about.

“Thank you…” he whispered shakily, touched, and they smiled before they left the room, leaving the brothers alone.

Daryl drew away to look at Merle’s face and meet his eyes, taking his cheeks between his palms and stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs, and Merle wrapped his hand around Daryl’s wrist, stroking a finger along his pulse point.

“You apologised to them?” Daryl asked softly.

Merle nodded and closed his eyes and smiled, sighing quietly when Daryl pressed a lengthy kiss to his forehead, before he found himself being squeezed tightly.

“M’so proud of you, Merle…” Daryl said, his voice shaking a little with emotion, and Merle smiled wobblily against Daryl’s chest, heart clenching at Daryl’s words.

Five minutes later Daryl helped his brother to stand, supported him as they walked through the prison, up the gangway and into their cell. They settled into Merle’s cot together, Merle pressed to Daryl’s ribs, and the elder Dixon sighed, melting against Daryl as he started to stroke a hand up and down his side.

“Sleep, brother” Daryl murmured, and Merle did.


	15. Storytelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done minimal proofreading on this chapter so I apologise if there are any massive errors! :)

They dozed in their cell together for a short while before taking few quiet moments to themselves, talking about their days thus far before separating for a short while as Merle slept and read and Daryl worked on the fences with Rick, finally securing the west side of the prison completely. Daryl returned two hours after he’d left, taking a very quick but well-earned shower before he was joining his sibling in their cell.

He found Merle asleep with his book on his stomach, his remaining fingers splayed out over his heart and his head turned away to face the wall, and smiled affectionately, content to watch him for a minute or two. Merle grunted, frowning and shifting a little, and Daryl was quick to remove the book from his torso so it wouldn’t fall off, marking Merle’s place and setting it aside on the chair beside Merle’s cot.

He frowned when Merle mumbled and then whimpered, writhing on the cot, his brows creasing in the middle, and watched with increasing worry as Merle started to tremble. Merle made a pitiful noise and rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and Daryl’s heart clenched in sympathy before dropping through his stomach when Merle flailed a little then spoke.

“No, stop,” Merle whimpered, “s-stop…”

Daryl moved closer, thinking of nothing but soothing his brother, kneeling on the cot and reaching out to touch Merle’s shoulder, and nearly fell backwards at the loud, startled yell Merle let out. He let go immediately, wincing and grunting when Merle’s bandaged arm caught him in the ribs, hard, knocking the wind out of him. Merle sat up and scrambled to cram himself into the corner at the head of the cot, his back forced against the wall and his knees pressed to his chest protectively.

He was panting, fingers clutching at his shirt over the bullet wound in his chest, eyes wide, pupils but pinpricks in his wild irises, and Daryl put his hands up in a submissive gesture, worry settling in his gut as his brother stared at him blankly. He heard rapid footsteps coming up the stairs and along the gangway; someone had heard the commotion and was coming to check it out. Daryl didn’t remove his eyes from Merle, but heard someone slip into the cell, panting a little from running to the cell.

“Is everything alright?” Andrea asked, her eyes drifting between the brothers, “I heard a yell.”

Merle was mute and still for a few moments before he nodded, still silent, his eyes still wide, sweeping around the room as his brain came back to the present.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Jus’ a nightmare…” Daryl said quietly, still reeling, “s’okay, I got this. Thanks, Andrea.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “if you need anything let me know…”

Merle nodded, and Daryl nodded along with him, glad that Merle was responding in some way and wasn’t catatonic again. She left the room and the brothers looked at each other for a long while, Daryl scared to frighten his brother further, and Merle still reeling from whatever he’d been dreaming about.

“Did I hurt you?” Merle asked, finally finding his voice, eyeing the way Daryl was cradling his ribs.

“S’nothin’,” he reassured, rubbing the budding bruise gently and smiling even though his ribs ached fiercely, “s’alright Mer…”

Merle nodded, eyes flitting away to the side, and they lapsed into silence for a long while. Merle hugged his knees to his chest, still not removing himself from where he was crammed in the corner, and Daryl took a few careful steps forward to the end of the bed, and watched Merle as he sat down, ready to move away if Merle was uncomfortable. Merle eyed him but didn’t seem to be frightened further, so Daryl sat and tried to relax, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. Slowly, Merle calmed, skin losing its sickly, pale pallor and his breathing losing its thin, shaky, shallow edge.

“Y’wanna talk about it?” Daryl asked softly.

Merle went pale again, breath shuddering out of him as his brain snapped back to remembering what he’d dreamt about, and Daryl felt guilty for bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to, Mer,” Daryl reassured quickly, “s’up to you... I won’t pressure you.”

Merle shook his head forlornly, shivering and hugging his knees closer before burying his face between them, making Daryl’s heart clench.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked softly, “water?”

Merle looked up at him, meeting his eyes before he was nodding and offering a tiny smile, and Daryl smiled back and stood, leaving the room to get his brother some water. When he returned, Merle was in the same position, staring into space, cheek propped up on his knees. He’d never seen Merle so unnerved about anything as an adult, Merle had always been unshakeable, unafraid of anything and anyone, but he was very subdued now, his eyes distant.

“Hey brother” he greeted softly, and Merle jumped a little, broken out of his thoughts.

He looked up at him, and Daryl was glad to see colour in his face again, to see an inkling of a smile in his eyes. Merle drank the water gratefully, handing the empty glass back to Daryl when he’d finished so he could set it aside. They lapsed into silence again, and Daryl smiled in relief when Merle reached for him timidly, stroking his knee with his fingertips; he took it as a sign of forgiveness but not one to coax him closer, though he ached to hold his brother, to comfort him.

“I wanna go outside,” Merle said, meeting his eyes, “I need to go outside, Dar...”

Daryl was immediately frowning, his lips pursing as he made to disagree, but he could see the distress in Merle’s eyes and realised that the cell likely wasn’t doing him any favours in calming down.

“Please? I want to feel the sun on my face, breathe in some fresh air,” Merle said quickly before Daryl could speak, “jus’ for a little while. S’been so long, Dar…”

Daryl sighed, rubbing his forehead with a palm.

“Okay,” he whispered, “just for ten minutes.”

They made their way outside, with Daryl supporting his brother as much as he could without touching him too much or in ways that made him shudder and try to pull away, and soon enough they were outside. Merle sighed when they made it into the sunlight, closing his eyes and tilting his face skyward as the sun kissed his skin, and they stood there for a long while, enjoying the sun on their skin and the wind in their hair.

Daryl realised that this was good for Merle, was helping him relax, and led him towards a patch of grass, helping him to lie down before he was settling in beside him, close but not too close. Merle melted into the grass, brushing over it with his fingertips and focussing on the feel of the earth beneath him, his eyes sliding shut.

“This is nice,” Merle said, sighing, “thanks, Daryl.”

Daryl just smiled and let his own eyes slide shut.

They lay there for a long while in silence, feeling the breeze brushing over them, the sun warming them up, hearing birds in the distance. Daryl opened his eyes five minutes later, looking over at his brother, and he smiled, taking an indulgent moment to just watch Merle as he relaxed.

He heard movement and tilted his head to find Michonne in the doorway to the prison, gesturing that it was lunch time, and he nodded his understanding and thanks at her. He looked to his brother again, giving him a few more moments before he reached over to brush Merle’s shoulder with his fingers. Merle snuffled, eyes opening to find his, and Daryl smiled at him.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside,” Daryl said, “s’lunchtime.”

Merle nodded, letting him help him up, and they made their way inside for lunch, Merle leaning into his side a little bit more than he had when they’d come outside.

\--

After lunch Merle slept, curled up on his cot with his back to the door, and Daryl let him be, checking in on him every now and then, making sure that he was drinking water. He didn’t know how to handle Merle like this, he knew how to handle him ranting and raving like a lunatic, or hissing at everyone like an angry cat, even pouting, but not like this, this shell of his brother.

He decided that he’d let Merle come to him, that he’d give him as much space as he needed, and decided that he’d drop in every hour, just to reassure Merle that he was there for him, and slowly he saw Merle relaxing, relieved when Merle stopped putting his back to the door.

They spent a few hours before dinner together in the cell, making idle chit chat or reading quietly before Daryl was helping his brother downstairs to the common room for dinner, supporting him with a gentle arm around his waist as they made their way to where the others were already congregated. Merle smiled and nodded a greeting when everyone turned to look at them, and the brothers peered at them enquiringly when they realised that no-one was sitting down to eat at the tables.

“We’re thinking about eating outside, just the old crew and Michonne,” Rick said, “sit around a fire, share some stories.”

Merle looked at his brother and smiled excitedly, and Daryl grinned back, knowing that Merle was very keen to go outside again.

“We’ll meet y’all out there, then…” Daryl said, “we’ll start a fire.”

“Can you set out these blankets too?” Carol asked, handing Daryl a pack of matches and holding up a pile of blankets.

Merle nodded, taking the blankets from her and holding them against his chest with his good arm before they were moving away again.

“Thanks!” Rick called after them, and the brothers smiled and made their way outside.

They set the blankets out together, anchoring them with rocks so they wouldn’t bunch up, and then built the fire, making sure it was well contained before they were sitting down and warming their hands with the flames. They lay down on their backs, and Merle grinned at his brother, teeth chattering as he started to shiver.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna get you somethin’ warm,” Daryl said, “you’ll be okay for a bit?”

“Mhm,” Merle hummed quietly, and squeezed his forearm gently, “m’okay.”

Daryl rolled onto his side, stood up, and went inside, grabbing his poncho and then hurrying back, not wanting to leave his brother outside alone for too long. When he returned, Merle was deep in thought, lying on his back, trailing his fingers up and down his breastbone, and Daryl moved to sit beside him. Merle smiled at him, tilting his head to look at him, and Daryl reached out to stroke a hand over Merle’s head gently, carefully.

Merle allowed the contact, arching into it a little, before Daryl was helping him up and pulling his poncho on over his head. Merle stopped shivering a minute later and smiled at him before he was lying down and squirming so that his head was propped up on Daryl’s legs. Daryl smiled, starting to card his hands through Merle’s hair gently, heart lifting as Merle sighed happily, melting into his touch. Daryl sighed too, relief seeping into his bones at the fact that Merle was accepting his touch and finally relaxing fully.

“M’sorry about earlier…” Merle said quietly a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

“S’okay, Mer…” Daryl reassured, “m’just glad you’re okay.”

“I’ll tell you about it…” Merle said, peering up at him as he fiddled with the hem of the poncho, “jus’… jus’ not today…”

Daryl smiled, making Merle know that he didn’t have to share if he didn’t want to, and they lapsed into comfortable silence for a while before the others were making their way outside to join them.

\--

Dinner passed quickly with everyone sharing stories of what they did before the apocalypse came, and the brothers were more than content to just listen to their companions talk, adding their own stories occasionally. Eventually they all lapsed into silence, content to just exist together, bellies full and skin warmed by the fire. Merle was watching the flames dance, watching the embers rise into the sky for a long while, almost entranced by them, when he heard Rick ask him a question.

“Pardon?” he asked, “sorry, I missed that.”

“I was just wondering what happened at the farm store” Rick said softly.

Merle felt everyone’s eyes on him, was realising now that no-one had asked him about it, even Daryl hadn’t pried much, and looked down at his lap, fiddling with the edge of his brother’s poncho self-consciously, before he was taking a deep, grounding breath and starting his story.

“They set an ambush for us,” Merle said quietly, his face going grim as he remembered the events of the day, “they were gonna kill anyone that showed up, regardless of if we brought Michonne…”

There were a few nervous murmurs through the circle at that, and Merle swallowed at the thought of any of the others being in the position that he’d been in, in the state of injury that he’d been in, at the thought that they would have been gunned down and left to die, or left to turn.

“After I dropped Michonne off I drove to a liquor store and sat in the parking lot for a while, drinkin’,” Merle said, grinning sheepishly when Daryl frowned and then glared at him, “yeah, yeah I know, baby brother.”

Daryl pursed his lips admonishingly, but his gaze softened at the endearment, positively melting when Merle shifted closer and pressed himself against him.

“I had the music blarin’ so I would attract some biters, gathered a herd ‘fore I drove to the meeting point,” Merle said, “jumped outta the car while it was still goin’ n’sent it into the middle of the place, hid in the farm store an’ set myself up while they were checkin’ the commotion out.”

He looked around the circle and found the others’ interested gazes.

“I started pickin’ ‘em off one by one, tryin’ to be careful with who I dropped so they wouldn’t notice me too quick,” he said, “n’then I saw him, walkin’ through the field all cocky and serious. N’so I tried to kill him.”

Merle’s eyes drifted shut and he sighed deeply.

“I so _so_ nearly got him… had a shot lined up perfect n’ everythin’,” he said, shaking his head remorsefully, “but a damn _kid_ got in the way and I only winged his shoulder…”

He felt Daryl’s hand on his arm as he patted him reassuringly, and Merle covered his hand with his own before he was continuing, opening his eyes to look around the group briefly.

“By then they knew that somethin’ was up, so they were lookin’ around, n’I was tryin’ to pick ‘em off as quick as I could, but they spotted where I was hidin’ n’ started makin’ their way over,” he said, “a biter took me by surprise, made me stumble outside n’ give away my position completely, n’then they were on me…”

He touched his broken ribs, wincing at the tenderness of them, before he was continuing.

“They kicked the shit out of me, three on one ‘til he stepped in…” he said, “n’then he dragged me inside… kicked me around some more. He wanted to kill me himself.”

He seemed distant, eyes a little vacant as he recalled the story, and Daryl brought him back to reality with a hand on his back. Merle smiled and sighed, shifting so he could sit fully against his brother, back pressed to Daryl’s front, and felt Daryl’s arms wrap around him as he laid back against him. Daryl shifted his blanket and wrapped it around the two of them, enveloping them in warmth, and Merle shivered happily.

“I got my bearings and fought back, got a few hits in, but he overpowered me. I was tryin’ to push ‘im away n’he…” Merle said, swallowing and gathering himself before he was raising his remaining hand so the others could see his bandaged fingers, and they watched him inspect the truncated digits for a moment before he was speaking again, “... he bit my fingers off. Spat ‘em into the next room.”

Everyone winced at the thought, shocked that the other man would have done that.

“He dragged me to another room and shoved me against a machine,” Merle said, “twisted my arm till it broke, n’ shoved it into the cogs. Let me drop like dead weight on it.”

Merle swallowed, hand coming to his throat as he remembered the pressure the Governor had applied there, the feeling of blood being trapped, his head throbbing with his pulse. The bruises had healed now, but the memory was still fresh, intermingling with memories from his childhood that were better left dead and buried.

“He choked me till I nearly passed out, n’ then he stood back,” Merle said, fingers finding the hole in his chest, “I said I wouldn’t beg him for my life, n’ just says ‘no’ in this cold voice. Then he shot me in the chest.”

He felt Daryl’s fingers on his back, tracing circles over his shoulder blades in soothing whorls before the palm was rubbing up and down his spine gently, and let his own fingers brush over the hole in his chest.

“He watched me bleed out for a while, watched me struggle n’gasp for air,” Merle said, “I s’pose he wanted to watch me turn, but the others took him away, prob’ly to patch his shoulder up. N’then I passed out.”

Merle took Daryl’s hand under the blanket, ignoring the fact that the others were watching them, that they could probably see his affectionate gesture, turning to smile at his brother as his thumb rubbed over his knuckles.

“Then I woke up in Daryl’s cell,” Merle said, turning his attention back to the others and shrugging, “worse for wear, but alive thanks to all of you.”

“So you essentially went on a suicide run” Carol said, and the Dixon brothers bristled.

“I suppose that’s one way to think about it…” Merle said.

Daryl’s breath hitched, and Merle squeezed his hand soothingly.

“I wanted to give you all a chance…” Merle said softly.

“Thank you…” Rick said, face serious and voice sincere.

“But don’t do it again!” Carol said, brows furrowed.

“Okay, ma…” Merle crooned, grinning cheekily, “I promise.”

The mood lifted and the group laughed, and Merle flushed a little at the positive attention, blinking at their response, before he looked at his lap, smiling shyly.

\--

They all sat around the campfire for a long while, just chatting and laughing, before they started wandering back inside in groups of two, taking the dishes and blankets with them, and slowly their numbers dwindled until only Merle and Daryl were left, lying on the grass, side by side. They stayed like that for another ten minutes before Merle was starting to shiver a little, his healing body struggling a bit to regulate its temperature properly despite the fire and the poncho.

“Let’s go inside, Mer…” Daryl said softly as he sat up and put out the fire.

Merle sighed at having to go back inside but nodded his agreement and let Daryl help him up and support him as they made their way indoors and up to their cell, bidding the others goodnight as they passed by them.

Daryl helped Merle settle into his cot before he made a quick trip downstairs to get Merle some water, returning quickly and handing a glass to Merle and watching him drink it, smiling at him affectionately. He took the glass from Merle’s hand when he was done, setting the empty glass on the chair before making to climb into his own cot, when he felt Merle’s eyes on him. Daryl smiled at him from his cot, and his heart melted when Merle smiled tiredly, almost shyly, up at him.

Merle was fiddling with his sheets, eyes drifting over his face uncertainly, and Daryl was about to ask him what was wrong when Merle, after a little deliberation, was shifting over and patting the space beside him, encouraging him to come closer. Daryl went readily, climbing into the cot with him, and it was awkward for a little while as Merle struggled to get comfortable and kept moving, until he sighed tiredly, squirming in one last motion before he settled where he was, against Daryl’s side, his good arm slung over Daryl’s waist, the position very comfortable.

“Y’okay?” Daryl asked after a long silence.

“Yeah, m’good” Merle mumbled sleepily.

“Get some sleep, brother…” Daryl crooned, settling the blanket over them, and Merle dozed off, Daryl following suit.


	16. Well-meaning

The next week passed by in a blur, and the brothers barely left each other’s sides, padding about the prison together and doing simple odd jobs throughout the day. Daryl slowly warmed to the idea of Merle being out of his cot and up and about, and once Caleb had given Merle another look over and had deemed him well on the mend, he finally relented. He still made Merle rest a few times during the day, coaxing him into their cell, and more often than not they napped together for a while before getting up and starting their work again.

They broadened their scope at the news that Merle was doing well, graduating to fixing gates and boarding up windows, making barricades and clearing walkers away from the fences, and Merle was very happy to be out of bed, pleased that he could be useful again. They spent more and more time outside, and Daryl remembered very quickly just how easily Merle could manipulate him into doing what he wanted when he realised that it was nearly always under Merle’s guidance that they found themselves outside. He just shook his head good-naturedly and smiled, squeezing Merle’s good shoulder and revelling in the smile Merle gave him.

They joined the others for lunch and dinner each day, enjoying their company as Merle slowly integrated back into the fold, and Merle was surprised by just how well he was getting along with the others. He took a particular liking to Rick, Carol and Andrea as well as Michonne, Tyreese and Sasha, much to the others’ very apparent surprises, and he was glad that they were overall very supportive of him and didn’t hold his previous behaviour against him. He was trying hard to shed who he had been for close to half a century, was working on bettering himself and his outlook every day, and he knew that the others were impressed by the change they saw in him.

He decided that he wanted to thank them for believing in him, for supporting him, for being a better family than he’d ever had and had ever dreamed of having, but he wasn’t sure how to do so, and thought long and hard on how he could do something meaningful and helpful for them. He debated fixing the boilers and getting hot water running through the prison but remembered that they wouldn’t work without electricity. He thought on how he could get the electricity going, thinking that it may be possible with solar panels, before he was realising that solar panels would likely be hard to find.

Then he remembered telling Daryl about the seeds at Woodbury, about the Governor’s private stash, and decided to make a start on the gardens with them and the seeds that Daryl and the others had found on their run, hoping he could get them fresh fruit and vegetables going before Winter came.

\--

He left early one morning, making a detour to lockup and taking a hunting knife, and upon second thought, a pistol and a few pocketfuls of ammunition for it as well, though he hoped to be in and out quickly and that he wouldn’t have to use it. He tucked them into his pants and then trekked downstairs, slipping outside and through the gates without being noticed, and started to make his way toward Woodbury. It was faster to get to Woodbury on foot than it was driving, being able to cut through the forest in a direct path instead of having to follow a road was a definite time-saver, and Merle was confident he’d be able to get in and out quickly, and hopefully be back by mid-morning.

The devastation that he found as he reached Woodbury made his heart clench and his stomach turn. It was but a shell of what it had been, empty of all the life and zest and innocence it had held beforehand. There were only a smattering of walkers, two or three wandering aimlessly, apparently trapped in Woodbury’s walls, so he ignored them, avoiding their detection. Some of the buildings had been burned to the ground and blood lined the streets, and there were obvious signs of a fight, the dead littering the streets here and there. Merle had seen worse, but Woodbury had been his home for a while, and it hurt a bit to see it reduced to ashes and corpses.

He shook himself off, reminding himself that he had a job to do, and headed to the Governor’s house, outwardly pristine unlike everything else around it. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him before he was taking pause and listening for any noise throughout the house. It was dead silent, so he made his way through to the back veranda, where he knew the seeds had been kept. The man hadn’t gotten around to planting most of them, had only planted some basil and rosemary, and Merle smirked as he collected the still-packaged seeds into a bag before swiping the seedlings too, taking some soil with him so they’d at least last until he got back to the prison.

He heard noise over the back fence, the rustling of leaves and the growl of the dead, and decided that it was time to leave, so he turned and went back into the house. He made a detour through the living room as he left, finding a duffel bag on his way, and pilfered bottles of whisky and wine on his way through the room, stuffing the seeds in there as well before he was making his way to the front door. He froze upon hearing the crunch of tires coming up the street and ducked down so he couldn’t be seen through the window of the door.

“Fuck,” he breathed, heart hammering in his chest, “fuck, _fuck_.”

He heard voices; whoever they were they weren’t even trying to be quiet.

“Check the houses,” one voice said, and Merle was relieved that it wasn’t familiar, “we’ll meet back here in ten, then we move on. Don’t fuck around.”

Merle swallowed, shifting to lock the door, flicking the lock on the knob above his head as slowly and as quietly as he could. He peered out the window carefully, eyes alighting on seven men, all strapped with automatic weapons, standing around two four-wheel-drives, and then they were splitting out of the group, making their way towards different houses, and he was quickly hiding again. He sprung into action, keeping low to the floor and making a beeline for the back veranda, planning to hop the fence with one of the chairs. He hid on the veranda just as he heard the front doorknob jiggle, and looked back down the hall before wrenching himself backwards and out of sight when he saw someone there, their head bowed to look at the doorknob.

He stood still for a few moments, just listening to his surroundings, hoping upon hope that the other man hadn’t seen him, and looked around the veranda. There was no yelling, no noise alerting the others that they weren’t alone, so Merle focussed on escaping unseen, hoisting his duffel bag over his good shoulder and grabbing a chair before setting it next to the fence. He heard the shattering of glass as the man at the door smashed the window, then heard him turn the lock and then the knob, sending the door creaking open.

Merle stood up on the chair, looking over the fence for danger and seeing a walker, its back to him, lumbering away, apparently having heard something from another house, and sucked a breath in, listening once more. Footsteps were coming down the hall instead of exploring the many offshoots into other rooms, and Merle realised that the open back door was drawing the other man closer, curious and cautious, and he cursed himself silently. He knew that he needed to act now, so he gripped the fence and vaulted himself over it, landing on the other side with a thud.

He rolled, hissing as his broken arm twinged, before he was scrambling away and hiding behind a tree just as he heard running footsteps and the creak of the chair as the other man climbed onto it. He covered his mouth to quiet his heaving breaths, tucking himself and the duffel bag as small as he could get behind the trunk and listening.

“The fuck are you doing?” he heard, and held his breath, heart hammering in his ears.

“Thought I heard something,” another voice came, “the front door was locked but the back door was wide open, n’ I heard a thud, so I thought someone had vaulted the fence. Did you hear anything?”

“Thought it was you,” the first voice called, “d’you see anything?”

“Nah, there’s nothing here ‘cept a walker over your way,” the second man said, “I ran over, but I didn’t see anythin’.”

“Well, maybe we should check it out” the first man suggested, and Merle’s stomach dropped.

“I dunno, man, Chris is mighty antsy about heading North ASAP,” the second man said uncertainly, and Merle heard him climbing off the chair, “maybe we should just forget about it.”

“We should at least bring it up,” the first man said, “Chris’ll want to know.”

“Yeah, I suppose-” the other man said, his sentence tapering off as his attention was drawn elsewhere, “wait, this dirt’s fresh.”

“What?” the other man asked, and Merle heard him straining as he looked over the fence.

“Look,” the other man said, “this dirt’s definitely just been turned, someone’s been here really recently.”

Merle clenched his teeth and turned his sight to the next tree, looking around for walkers and looking around the tree at the fence before he was shuffling forward, tucking against the tree and listening again.

“We should check it out,” the first man said, “they can’t have gone far without us noticing if they just left.”

Merle’s heart raced even faster as he realised that he was stuck where he was and that the two men were very likely about to hop the fence and sniff him out. He scanned the forest in front of him, wondering how far he could get by sneaking before he could safely make a break for it.

“James, Hugh, the hell are you two doing lollygagging?” another voice called, “I told you no fucking around.”

“Sorry sir” one of the voices called.

“Someone’s been here recently, like five minutes ago, tops,” the other man said, “we were discussing checking it out.”

“Hang on, I’m coming over” the third voice said after a pause, and Merle took a chance shuffling forward to the next tree.

He wondered belatedly just how he got himself into these kinds of situations, and then strained to hear the other men’s conversation as they started up again.

“Okay, what have you found?” the third voice asked.

“This dirt is freshly turned, so someone’s just taken whatever was here,” the second man said, “the front door was locked but the back door was wide open, and this chair was next to the fence. I thought I heard something when I came out to investigate, but there was nothing outside the fence but a walker.”

Merle heard the chair complain under the third man’s weight as he stepped up onto it, and tucked himself tighter behind the tree.

“Yeah someone jumped here,” the third man agreed, “we should get the others and look around, they can’t have gone too far.”

Merle fought down a gasp and the instinct to run when the man fired blindly into the tree line, hearing a bullet thud into the tree he had his back against and seeing more spray into the surrounding dirt and trees, kicking up bark and soil. Merle heard the chair creak as the man climbed off of it and took that moment to shuffle forward a few more trees. He could see the road through the forest and decided that his best bet was making it to the road and following it before ducking back into the forest so they couldn’t track him as easily.

The men were still conversing, arguing on whether they should wait for the others or go now, so Merle took it as his chance. He snuck forward, tucking against five more trees and checking carefully behind him before he was making a run for it, trying to use the trees as cover as he went, stopping every now and then and listening out for any sign of the other men. He made it to the road and ran as hard as he could, breaking eyeline with Woodbury’s walls and running away as fast as he could.

Ten minutes later he was walking, still following the road as he took the long way back to the prison, when he heard the rumble of engines and the hum of tires on the road coming up behind him, and realised that they’d regrouped and gotten in their vehicles, whether it was in search of him or to head towards the highway and go North he wasn’t sure, but he knew he had to hide. He ducked into the tree line, hiding behind a large bush and keeping himself low to the ground, getting himself settled quickly and peering out through the leaves.

The two four-wheel-drives he’d seen earlier drove past, slower than he’d like, and he saw that they were actively searching out of the windows of the vehicles, scanning the forest. He stayed completely still, watching as they stopped a short way up the road and then got out of the car. He held his breath as they looked around, splitting into two groups to check either side of the road. He watched as they patrolled up and down the road, holding his breath as they got closer and closer, close enough that he could see the tattoo on one of their ankles.

“Alright, forget this,” their leader called just as they were about to step parallel to the bush he was in, “we’re heading off, we have places to be.”

Merle breathed a silent sigh of relief and watched as they returned to their vehicles, climbed in and took off once more. He lay there for another five minutes before he was moving again, getting to his feet with some difficulty and brushing himself off, brushing dirt and leaves off his front and then collecting the duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He took in his surroundings, getting his bearings before he was turning and making a beeline towards the prison through the forest.

\--

He reached the prison twenty minutes later and crept back through the gates and was sneaking up towards the door he’d left through when he heard footsteps around the corner and braced himself. He turned to face the corner and met his brother’s eyes as he rounded it, and Merle felt his heart clench guiltily at Daryl’s frazzled expression. They both froze, blinking at each other for a moment before Merle was smiling at him and then Daryl was glaring angrily.

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Daryl growled, and Merle realised that he hadn’t seen him this mad in a while.

He pursed his lips, immediately feeling even more guilty, and he didn’t know why he’d thought that Daryl wouldn’t notice that he’d gone.

“I was only gone for an hour and a half, Daryl. N’I went to Woodbury” he said softly, effectively cowed, and flinched at the way Daryl’s eyes wide with very apparent surprise before they went hard and angry.

“You’ve been missing for _hours_! And you did _what_?” Daryl asked darkly, and Merle knew it was rhetorical, that he should keep his mouth shut, “why the fuck would you do that, Merle? And without telling anyone?”

Merle averted his gaze, fidgeting with his shirt.

“Do you have a _death wish_? The Governor is _still_ out there. Your arm is still in a cast. _You_ are still _injured_!” Daryl hissed, his voice raising in volume as he crowded him against the door, stalking like an angry cat, “I don’t know what went through your head with this. We were all worried _sick_ about you. We’ve been looking for you since I noticed you were gone!”

“I’m sorry-” Merle said.

“What could you _possibly_ get from Woodbury that was so important?” Daryl interrupted, “if it’s books, I swear that I’m going to deck you.”

Merle faltered at that, watching Daryl flex his fists. He hadn’t even thought about taking books from the library, and he supposed if he had he’d probably be dead. The guilt that had gathered in his chest became heavier, and he swallowed.

“It’s books isn’t it?” Daryl asked, entirely unimpressed, shaking his head, “for fuck’s sake Merle.”

He shook his head and set the duffel bag down, unzipping it and pulling out his bag of seeds to hold them up. It didn’t feel as triumphant as he’d hoped. Daryl squinted at the bag before he was looking to him for clarification, eyes narrowed angrily.

“Y’know the seeds I told you about?” he asked, “in the Governor’s stash?”

“You went for _seeds_?!” Daryl screeched, ripping the bag out of his hand and shaking it a few times as he spoke to punctuate his upset, “do you have any _idea_ how _stupid_ that is?!”

“We’re going to need food! Winter is coming up and you said yourself that we need fruit and vegetables!” Merle said, watching the livid bunch of the muscles in Daryl’s arm and snatching the bag back before Daryl could throw it over the fence in his rage, “I just wanted to help!”

Daryl’s fists clenched, his jaw set angrily, and Merle knew that Daryl wanted to hit him, but knew that he wouldn’t. Instead Daryl just shook his head and stopped looking at him, fixing his gaze somewhere else instead as he expressed his displeasure, and somehow that hurt more.

“I just wanted to do something _nice_!” Merle said, his voice cracking a little, “I wanted to do this for everyone as a surprise. I’m _sorry_.”

They lapsed into tense silence, and Merle breathed out a shaky, upset breath as he looked away, avoiding Daryl’s gaze as it snapped to him again, rolling the bag in his hand, feeling the seeds shifting in his palm in their bags, considering throwing the bag over the fence himself. He could feel Daryl’s eyes on him, could feel his gaze trailing over him, taking him in, and they stood there in silence for a long, long while. He shuddered when Daryl tugged him closer and into his arms, melting into his brother’s embrace and wrapping his arms around him in return.

“You scared me, Mer…” Daryl whispered.

“I’m sorry” Merle said, “m’so sorry baby brother.”

“Jus’ don’t do it again,” Daryl breathed, “please...”

“I promise, Dar,” Merle said, “I’ll tell you everything from now on…”

Daryl pulled back to look into his eyes and smiled, and Merle smiled back, relief flooding through him at Daryl’s apparent forgiveness.

“You’re covered in dirt,” Daryl said, and Merle nodded looking down at himself, “c’mon, let’s go inside, get you cleaned up.”

Merle nodded, flexing his fingers in Daryl’s grip when he took his hand, and let him lead him inside and up to their cell. The others were nowhere to be found and Merle swallowed guiltily as he realised that they were probably outside looking for him.

“Take off your dirty clothes,” Daryl said softly, “m’gonna get a cloth n’some water and let everyone know that you’re alright.”

Merle nodded and Daryl left, and Merle watched him as he left before he was doing as he was told, setting his knife and gun aside and stripping out of his dirty clothes before kicking them into the corner. He left his underwear on and covered himself with a towel, and waited patiently for Daryl to return, thinking on the happenings of the day as he waited.

Daryl returned relatively quickly with a bucket of water and a cloth, and smiled at him, and Merle felt warm and fuzzy at his expression, returning it whole-heartedly. Daryl immediately started to clean him, starting with his face, gently buffing dirt away. He made quick work, working his way down Merle’s body and cleaning him efficiently.

“You’re bleeding” Daryl said as he reached his arms, meeting Merle’s eyes.

“S’just a couple scratches…” Merle said, “doesn’t hurt at all, Dar.”

“What happened, exactly?” Daryl asked.

Merle pursed his lips, knowing that Daryl definitely wouldn’t be happy to hear about what had happened in Woodbury.

“No more secrets, Merle” Daryl said chidingly when he remained tight-lipped, meeting his eyes pointedly.

Merle sighed, wincing a little when a cut stung as Daryl wiped over it, before he was launching into the story.

“I left really early,” Merle said, “got some stuff from lockup before I slipped out.”

“Well at least you were armed” Daryl muttered dryly, and Merle snorted.

“I reached Woodbury, went straight to the Gov’ner’s house and took the seeds n’some of the stuff already growing there,” he said, “headed back inside to leave, took some’a his alcohol on the way out.”

Daryl pursed his lips, pressing down harder than necessary on his next swipe of the cloth, but nodded for Merle to continue. Merle sighed, closing his eyes as he continued.

“Tried to leave through the front door and head back, but…” Merle said.

“But?” Daryl asked, drawing out the vowel and looking at him in anticipation.

“A buncha guys with automatic weapons rolled up in four-wheel-drives and started lookin’ around,” Merle said, “said they were stoppin’ in before they were headin’ North.”

Daryl’s face dropped.

“I locked the door and went back to the veranda, hopped the fence and hid behind a tree just as one of them busted through and looked around,” Merle said, “he heard me jump the fence but never saw me.”

Daryl’s jaw had dropped open by then, worry spreading over his face.

“I crept away bit by bit n’then made a run for the road,” Merle reassured, “followed it for a while before hiding again as they passed me.”

“Shit, Mer…” Daryl said, “m’ _seriously_ never lettin’ you outta my sight again.”

Merle smiled and flushed, reaching out to cup Daryl’s neck in his palm gently and bringing their foreheads together, and Daryl covered his hand with his own, smiling back at him affectionately.


	17. Stargazing

After his adventure at Woodbury, Merle had his heart set on starting a garden a little while away from the prison in the forest, and told Daryl as such, beaming widely when Daryl agreed to his plan. Daryl told the others that night that they were going to look for signs of game near and around the prison the next day, to see if they could start bringing meat in again, and the others agreed immediately, excited about the prospect of fresh meat.

The brothers set out together early the next morning, packing some water and two cans of food for the journey, and Daryl collected his crossbow before they headed to lockup to collect a few weapons and headed out. They waved Maggie and Glenn goodbye when they passed the watchtower, before they were disappearing into the forest, having a fairly good idea where they wanted to set up a garden, but deciding to check it out after searching for signs of game, knowing they’d have to go a fair way away to search.

They trekked through the forest with practised ease, walking side by side, talking intermittently and listening out for signs of danger. There was a time in their lives where they hadn’t had a care in the world in the forest, delving deep into their element, walking through the forest and fearing nothing, but they both knew better now that things could change in the blink of an eye and that they were never truly safe, and likely never would be again. Merle’s run in with the men at Woodbury had confirmed that, had reminded them of that.

They stopped an hour and a half later when they came across a smattering of wild berry bushes, meeting each other’s eyes excitedly before they were moving closer to inspect and identify them. They collected a handful each, sitting down on a log together and talking as they ate them, and Merle was reminded fondly of their childhood. He’d taught Daryl how to identify which berries were safe to eat and which were poisonous when they were children, and they’d spent a lot of days in the woods collecting berries together and living off the land so they could get away from the house for a while. He came back to himself when Daryl nudged him with a gentle elbow, and returned the smile that Daryl gave him, chuckling a little at the way the berries had stained his brother’s mouth.

“What’chu thinkin’ ‘bout?” Daryl asked, popping another few berries into his mouth.

“Jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout how we used’ta do this when we was kids…” Merle said softly, doing the same and savouring the burst of sweetness over his tongue.

Daryl beamed widely, eyes drifting thoughtfully as he dredged up his own memories of being in the forest, and Merle’s smile widened at the expression on his face.

“Those were good memories, Mer…” Daryl said softly.

“Yeah” he agreed, smiling wider when Daryl moved closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders affectionately.

They finished their handfuls and stood, collecting their stuff and making to leave, when Merle paused, thinking and pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“What’s up?” Daryl asked, stopping to look at him.

“We should come back this way and pick some more to bring back for everyone,” Merle said, “maybe take some cuttings and try and plant some at the prison.”

“Good idea, Mer” Daryl said, eyes going soft with affection, and they started off again, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

\--

Another hour passed, and they were finally in prime territory for game, deep in the forest, mostly unexplored by humans. They trekked carefully and quietly, scanning the floor for tracks and splitting apart between the trees to cover more ground, but kept each other in their sights at all times, meeting each other’s eyes every now and then. They found rabbit tracks and signs of other small game, saw squirrels in the canopy, but had no luck finding tracks from anything larger.

By lunch time they still hadn’t had much luck and decided to stop for a while to eat, finding a clearing and sitting themselves down on a fallen tree. Merle was thoroughly enjoying himself being in the forest with his brother, was practically glowing with glee, more content than he had been in a long while, and settled against Daryl’s side companionably. Daryl tugged him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and hugging him as he handed him an opened can of food and a fork.

They ate together, talking and laughing and recounting some more stories from their childhood before they were moving on once more in their search for game. They circled the prison in a big loop, making sure that they knew the direction of the prison at all times and that they had a plan to escape the forest if they needed to.

Another two hours of walking and scanning the forest floor passed and they were beginning to wonder if they should be broadening their search when Merle spotted tracks, either boar or deer, a short distance away, and he reached out and brushed Daryl’s elbow with his fingertips.

“Dar, look, tracks” Merle said, pointing them out.

They trekked over to them together, inspecting them and finding that they were deer tracks and that they were at most a few days old. They exchanged an excited look, knowing now that there was game in the surrounds of the prison, and they knew that the others would be thrilled.

“S’still early,” Daryl said, “y’wanna see if we can find somethin’?”

Merle nodded excitedly, grinning broadly; he hadn’t been hunting in a long while, since their time at the quarry, as a matter of fact. Daryl returned the smile, patting his brother’s back, and then they were continuing on, their spirits very high.

They were right to have high spirits; an hour later they found fresh deer tracks, and they exchanged excited glances before they were starting to follow the hoofprints, keeping quiet. They spotted a white-tailed deer half an hour later through the trees, in a clearing, eating grass; and were overjoyed to find that it was a good size, more than enough to feed the prison’s residents. They looked at each other again, not needing to communicate verbally, and Merle nodded, smiling and turning his gaze to watch as Daryl loaded and then carefully aimed his crossbow.

They held their breaths as Daryl lined up the shot and readied himself, and watched as the bolt whizzed through the clearing and hit the deer in the side. They gave twin calls of elation as the deer dropped where it was, collapsing to the floor with a thud and a rustle of grass, and the brothers were immediately going to inspect the kill. Merle whistled, impressed, when they found that Daryl had hit it directly in the heart.

“Nice shot, baby brother” he said, grinning when Daryl turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling with pride.

“I had a good teacher” Daryl said humbly, chuckling, and Merle chuckled along with him, patting Daryl’s shoulder as he removed the bolt from the deer’s body with practised ease.

Merle sighed, moving to stand against a tree as the hours of walking caught up to him, and Daryl smiled at him understandingly, eyes tracking over him briefly.

“We should get back n’get this all cut up,” Daryl said, “I think you need to get some rest.”

Merle nodded in agreement, smiling tiredly at Daryl as his fatigue let itself be known, and moved forward to help his brother. They hoisted the deer between them before making their way back towards the prison, talking jovially amongst themselves and detouring past the berry bushes they’d found earlier to collect some for the others.

\--

They reached the prison a few hours later, mid-afternoon, tired and sweating like crazy, but victorious, and the others’ reactions were worth the journey. Rick and Carl saw them first, dropping what they were doing to let them through the gates and marvel at their haul, and the brothers beamed ear to ear, letting their praise wash over them. Some of the others noticed them as they made their way through the yard and then the courtyard, approaching them and commending them similarly, and the brothers were more than happy to parade the kill a little.

They brought it to a shaded area to prepare it, setting sheets out and setting it down before they were both cutting it up, working together like a well-oiled machine. They set aside chunks of meat, separating it into different cuts, and made short work of the carcass, years of practise making them quick and efficient. By the time they were done the crowd had mostly dispersed, setting back to their own jobs to keep the prison running, and the brothers finalised the cutting, bringing the meat inside for Carol, Rick, Tyreese and Sasha to prepare for the dinner meal.

“Messy work” Sasha commented with an amused smile, and the brothers looked down at their dirty fronts.

Merle smiled sheepishly, meeting her gaze before he was finding a chair and sitting down with a sigh, fatigue hitting him hard. Daryl was in front of him immediately, brow creased in worry.

“Y’alright?” he asked.

Merle nodded, waving his concern off and smiling reassuringly.

“Jus’ need to rest a bit…” Merle said.

“I think that you both should wash and take a nap” Carol said, eyeing Merle in particular.

“I agree” Daryl said, and Merle let him help him to stand and lead him to their cell, wrapping his arm around Daryl’s shoulders and smiling when Daryl wrapped his arm around his waist in return.

After stripping down and washing themselves with wet cloths they redressed into clean clothes and then settled into Merle’s cot together and took a nap for a few hours, dropping off nearly immediately, exhausted after a long day of trekking through the forest.

They woke just before dinner, making their way to the kitchen to check how the others were faring with the meat, and were greeted with a smell that made their mouths water. They’d cooked up deer steaks and were also preparing stew, making the most out of the meat, and there was no doubt that everyone would be well fed tonight.

“Hey!” Rick greeted, “feeling better?”

The brothers nodded, feeling refreshed and well rested, and settled into a few chairs in the kitchen so they could talk with the others.

“How should we deal with the rest of this meat?” Carol asked them.

“Could make jerky,” Merle said, “s’probably not worth curing…”

Daryl nodded his agreement, and together the brothers prepared the off cuts, seasoning them with what they had before they were hanging them up on the gangway with hooks fashioned from a spool of wire.

\--

Dinner came and went in a blur; everyone ate together talking excitedly, thrilled to have fresh meat for a change, and Merle very quickly became overwhelmed by all the praise that they received. After dinner Merle gave Daryl a meaningful look and slipped away from the fold, thanking the chefs for the meal before making his way outside, and Daryl let him be for a short while, letting him wind down a little, before he was making his way outside to join him.

Merle was on his back on the grass, staring up at the sky, and Daryl smiled upon seeing Merle taking a quiet moment. Merle was rarely this tranquil, was never one to be content to just sit still, so it was almost an honour to witness him in such a relaxed state. Merle had never been this quiet before, didn’t have much energy after being shot, was more introspective, spent a lot of his time thinking, and Daryl mused that this was definitely a turn for the better for his brother.

He moved towards him, trying to keep his footsteps quiet so he didn’t disturb the peaceful state that Merle was in, and smiled when Merle tilted his head back and watched him as he approached, smiling at him from his place on the grass. Daryl sat down beside him, to his left, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a drag before offering it to his brother. Merle took it from him wordlessly with a nod, careful of his bandaged stump fingers, and took a drag as Daryl breathed out his lungful and lay down beside him.

They passed the cigarette between them silently, Merle taking only a few drags of it, mindful of his lungs, until it was but a stub between Merle’s fingers. Merle put the rest of the cigarette out against the grass before flicking it away, and Daryl shifted to meet his eyes, receiving a cheeky smile from Merle in return before his older brother returned his gaze to the sky. Daryl smiled broadly and squeezed Merle’s shoulder affectionately before returning his attention to the sky as well. Daryl sighed and heard Merle do the same and they lay in silence for a long while, staring at the sky together.

Daryl cautioned reaching over slowly and taking Merle’s hand gently, his heart fluttering happily when Merle adjusted his hand in his grip and squeezed, the gesture affectionate and genuine. It was odd, holding a hand with only two fingers and a thumb, but Merle’s palm was warm against his own and he smiled at his brother’s willingness to hold his hand. He showed his thanks by stroking Merle’s thumb with his own and felt Merle’s remaining fingers flex in response. Merle had been steadily opening up to being touched, grudgingly at first, but he was getting much better, allowing Daryl’s tender, brotherly affection.

They continued to lie in silence, taking in the night sky above them, glad that the walkers were quiet tonight, leaving only the sound of insects to fill the night air, and Daryl nearly jumped when Merle finally spoke, breaking their silence.

“Ain’t looked at the stars with you for a long time…” Merle said softly, his voice a warm rumble.

Daryl nodded, eyes drifting skywards as he tried to recall the last time he and Merle had done this, just looked at the night sky together on their backs. They would have been teenagers, as he recalled, before Merle had joined the army, before he’d found drugs and gone down the path he had.

“We were still kids the last time, huh?” Daryl said.

“Mhmm, we went down by the creek fer yer birthday,” Merle hummed, brushing the knuckles of Daryl’s index finger with his thumb, pausing for a moment before gesturing briefly to the constellations above them with his stump, “y’remember ‘em?”

“Yeah, Mer… ‘course I do,” he breathed, recalling each constellation as his eyes passed over them, “you taught me. How could I forget?”

Merle laughed, and Daryl could practically feel his happiness radiating across the space between them and smiled; his brother’s laugh was one of his favourite sounds ever. Merle’s laugh was deep and rich, his voice lending it a raspy undertone.

They lapsed into easy silence once more for a long while, just enjoying each other’s company and forgetting the rest of the world. Daryl sensed Merle looking at him and turned his head to reciprocate. Merle smiled at him and squeezed his hand, thinking for a long while, his eyes flitting over his features, before he was speaking.

“I love you, Daryl…” he said quietly, his eyes soft.

Daryl was dumbstruck and swallowed thickly at his brother’s words, feeling emotion welling in his chest, making it go tight. Merle had never said those words to him, had expressed the sentiment in other ways, so Daryl had always known that Merle loved him fiercely, and he had liked to think that Merle knew that he loved him just as strongly in return. He took a moment, wiping his eyes with his free hand as he composed himself, taking in a shaky breath before speaking.

“I love you too, Merle…” he said back.

Merle’s face lit up and his eyes flitted over his features once more, shining with happy tears, before he shifted, wriggling closer and rolling onto his side gingerly before pressing himself against his brother, tucking against his side. Daryl pulled him closer readily, careful of Merle’s battered chest and broken arm, and pillowed Merle’s head on his bicep, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to his forehead.


	18. Fortification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is meany to be short and very fillery; there are only two more chapters planned after this, and I wanted to show a bit of time passing between the previous chapter and the one after this.

A week and a half later, Merle was finally deemed completely healed, or as healed as he was ever going to be, and started the day off by getting his cast and splint removed from his broken arm, and he revelled in finally being able to help out in every way he could. Life quickly fell into a routine and the brothers worked together to improve the prison every day, breaking their backs to make it safer and more secure with the help of Woodbury’s citizens and the others, securing and fortifying all of the fences surrounding the prison and culling off large groups of walkers so they couldn’t knock the fences down.

After the fences were deemed fortified and secure, the brothers moved onto other things, namely building a water silo, which they constructed along the side of the prison to collect drinking water. Water had been a scarcity for a long time, and they decided that it was a good idea to prepare themselves for the upcoming winter, when they’d have rain aplenty and, now, a way to collect it for later down the line.

Every day and throughout the night they had a rotation of people in the watchtower and also patrolling around the grounds, always in pairs and always armed, keeping a close eye on their perimeter and making sure that no walkers were getting inside. In addition, every morning the Dixon brothers patrolled the perimeter of the prison with Michonne and Andrea, expanding their search a little more every day, keeping an eye out for big herds heading their way while also looking for signs of the Governor.

Nobody was convinced that the man was gone; even though he’d tucked his tail and ran like a coward upon realising that his followers no longer followed him they were still very wary of the fact that he was still out there and very likely still carried a grudge. Michonne seemed to have made it her goal to find and kill the man; she would make her way out alone every now and then, setting out and searching the forest for any sign of him, sometimes only returning days later, but she hadn’t found anything at all, which frustrated her to no end.

The others were always concerned when she went off on her own, and Merle convinced her to take a buddy with her after a month or so of her doing it alone, gladly volunteering to go with her whenever he could. The two quickly reached a truce that in turn budded rapidly into friendship as they started to get to know each other better, Merle enjoying her dry humour and sarcasm and her calm, even demeanour, and Michonne grudgingly admitting that she liked his boisterous charm and terrible jokes.

\--

Within a few months the brothers had an assortment of vegetables ready for harvest, healthy and thriving in the little glade they’d picked out not far from the prison, and Merle was very excited to pick them and show them to the others. They set out one day to go hunting and to also harvest the fruits of their labour, to plant new seeds in their stead and tend to budding plants in preparation for the upcoming winter.

They spent half the day hunting like they’d told the others, bagging themselves a few boars before mid-afternoon, before they were making their way to the garden and admiring their handiwork, smiling proudly at each other. They gathered the vegetables they harvested into a rucksack, set them in the back of their car with their meat, and made their way back to the prison, dropping their haul off in the kitchen triumphantly.

The others were blown away by their haul, and the prison ate well that night, talking excitedly amongst themselves and relishing the vegetables.

“Where’d you find them?” Carol asked later as they ate, and Daryl met Merle’s eyes before he was speaking.

“Merle’n’I started a garden a few months back in a little glade not far from here,” Daryl said, beaming proudly, “Merle wanted to do it as a surprise for y’all. We should have fresh vegetables for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s great!” Carol said excitedly, turning to Merle, “you’ll have to show us where it is so we can help out.”

“You really are somethin’ huh?” Rick said, beaming in Merle’s direction, “jus’ when I thought you couldn’t surprise me any more…”

Merle flushed at the other man’s praise, ducking his head and turning redder and redder when Andrea squeezed his left shoulder and Michonne patted the other, both laughing at his shyness and making him grin bashfully.

\--

A few weeks after Merle and Daryl had brought their boars and vegetables back to the prison, Rick and Carl brought some pigs they’d found in the forest back to the prison as well, beaming from ear to ear in pride of their find.

“We found them wandering the forest,” Rick said, pointing to one of the pigs, “this one looks like she’s pregnant, so we might be able to raise them for meat.”

The prospect of continuous, fresh meat was very alluring, and for a few weeks they were all very excited about it, even more so after the piglets were born and it seemed that they had a good chance of breeding them later on, until Merle and Hershel noticed that the pigs seemed to be getting sick. They had immediately gotten Rick and brought him to the pen he and Carl had built, pointing to the mother, Violet, firstly.

“They don’t look too good,” Merle said, “they seemed alright when you got ‘em but I ain’t so sure now...”

“What do you mean?” Rick asked, frowning and looking the pigs over.

“They’re getting sick, some of ‘em have sores on their noses,” Merle said, pointing at the closest piglet’s face, “pigs are usually really interested in humans, but they’re all really lethargic.”

Rick’s disappointment was palpable, and Merle really felt for him; Rick and Carl had been out every day to feed and take care of the pigs under Hershel’s guidance, had built a pen and a shelter to protect them when it rained. Rick sighed, looking to the floor and hanging his head dejectedly before he was looking to the two of them.

“What do you recommend?” Rick asked.

“Well, we definitely can’t be eatin’ ‘em,” Merle said, shrugging defeatedly and looking to Hershel, who nodded his agreement, “n’we can’t be risking them gettin’ us sick too, especially in such close quarters. S’best to either let ‘em go or kill ‘em.”

“They can’t be nursed back to health?” Rick asked, looking to the veterinarian.

Hershel shook his head and Rick pursed his lips.

“Damn, I’ll have to tell Carl…” he said.

“M’sorry, man,” Merle said, smiling empathetically at him and reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder before setting his hand there and squeezing gently, “we were all lookin’ forward to it…”

Merle had steadily been getting more physically affectionate with the others, had started employing casual touches in conversation every now and then, and they’d returned the gestures easily. It had been enlightening to say the least, and Merle had been stunned by just how good casual contact with people other than Daryl felt.

“Thanks, Merle” Rick said, smiling and patting Merle’s hand, covering it with his own for a moment, and Merle smiled back.

Rick and Carl dealt with the pigs that day, not a few hours later, loading them into the back of a car, taking them elsewhere and setting them free. Carl was more understanding about the situation than they’d thought he’d be; he’d been upset, understandably, but when it’d been explained that they could cause an illness in the prison he’d understood and agreed that it was for the best.

\--

Another week passed, and the brothers decided to start hunting multiple times a week; now that Merle was well and truly healed and had regained some of his strength and muscle mass, Daryl was less worried about Merle becoming too exhausted to travel, so they dove right back into their element, sometimes not returning for days at a time until they’d had a good hunt.

They set out early in the mornings, wanting to make the most of the daylight and to find tracks that animals would have left throughout the night. They found a few streams within the first week and marked them on a map, knowing that they’d be the best places to set up camp and monitor for game. They found a source of fresh water, bringing it back to the prison and purifying it before storing it in the silo they’d built.

Things were looking up for them, the prison was safe, and they had a mostly steady supply of food and water, and they all liked their chances of living at the prison in the long term, though their minds never strayed far from the danger that lurked outside their walls.


	19. Warnings

Soon enough the brothers had to expand their hunting range far past being able to walk, trying to maintain some game presence and let the area repopulate, and had started to drive instead. They siphoned fuel from any car they came across using tubing and a fuel canister, putting it in the back of their trailer and bringing it back to the prison to use for rations, and they slowly amassed a collection of fuel.

They found an abandoned farm the very next month while hunting again; they had climbed into the Jeep together and set off at sunrise to broaden their range even further, letting the others know that they’d likely be gone for at least a few days. They found the farm three days after leaving; Daryl had spotted the farmhouse through a thicket of trees as they’d been driving, and they’d made their way blindly through a series of winding roads before they’d reached it.

They found it surprisingly intact and discovered that the barn was relatively untouched; it was obvious that no one lived at the farm anymore, though they hadn’t been gone long. They were stunned to find chickens and some roosters in a coop off the side of the house, a little emaciated and very loud and hungry, and they filled their food dispensers with grain and filled their water dishes. They discussed whether they should take them back to the prison when they left, to raise them for eggs and meat, before ultimately deciding that it was a good idea to watch them for a while and make sure they weren’t sick before bringing them back to the prison.

They’d found the farm late in the afternoon, and it was starting to get dark, so they decided to call it a night and give the farm a closer look in the morning, making their way into the house quietly and searching around by torchlight. They discovered two walkers inside in one of the upstairs bedrooms and dealt with them swiftly, looking them over and realising why the farm was in such good condition; the owners of the farm had never actually left. They gathered that the couple had been elderly and one of them had likely died in their sleep and bitten the other during the night, and they wondered if they’d even known what had happened to the world outside their farm.

They settled in for the night, setting themselves up in another upstairs bedroom, and Daryl took the first turn sleeping as Merle took watch, peering out the windows and listening for sounds of company outside. The night was quiet, and Merle was more than content to let his eyes wander over the farm, taking in the way the moonlight bathed the grass a green-blue, listening to the chickens’ quiet clucking and his brother’s soft, sleeping breaths. Daryl woke five hours later, and they sat together, talking for a little while before Merle was collapsing into bed and going to sleep, dead to the world until Daryl woke him again around mid-morning.

The early hours of the day saw them burying the owners of the farm and then exploring the barn and the surrounds of the farm more thoroughly. They found the barn empty with no signs of recent occupancy and found the same of the rest of the surrounds, and were stoked with their find, knowing it’d be a great place to hole up if things went awry at the prison. They decided to head back to the prison and go for one last hunt on the way back, topping the chickens’ food and water up before gathering their things and putting them into the Jeep before they were setting off, planning to return in the next few days.

\--

They drove for the rest of the day and into the night, stopping only to stretch their legs and eat the rations they’d packed, and they slept in the Jeep overnight before they were driving again in the morning, finally nearing the prison’s boundary around midday. They stopped about an hour’s drive from the prison to hunt, hiding the Jeep under a few fallen branches, thick with leaves, before they were setting to looking for game.

They found deer tracks an hour into their hunt and followed them for another hour before they were finding fresher tracks, finally spotting a deer in a clearing, eating some leaves off the forest floor. They positioned themselves so they could watch it for a little while, kneeling in the dirt, and finally Daryl took aim at it with his crossbow, keeping it in his sights.

Merle heard a rustle from behind them and turned to look over his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when his eyes met a stranger’s. He was up on his feet with his gun out in a few seconds, the man trained down the sight of his gun, and he shifted to block Daryl from the stranger’s sight in case the man was armed. Daryl followed suit, quickly cottoning on to the situation, and the stranger found himself with a pistol and a crossbow pointed in his direction.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” the man exclaimed, his hands coming up immediately as the brothers stood and advanced on him as one, hearing their deer get spooked and bolt away into the forest behind them, “sorry, I didn’t even know you were here. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you!”

“Who are you?” Daryl growled, stepping a little closer.

“I’m Mark” the man said, eyeing Daryl’s crossbow.

“Why are you here?” Daryl asked.

“I’m just wandering, man, trying to find shelter and food, just like you guys, honest,” the man said, “I have nothing on me but a knife. I’ll just go and be on my way.”

The brothers looked at each other after giving the man a look up and down, deciding as one that he was telling the truth, and they relaxed a little.

“I’m Merle,” Merle said, “this’s my brother Daryl.”

“Nice to meet you,” the man said with a smile, which only faltered a little when his attention fell on Daryl’s crossbow again.

The brothers smiled at him in return, looking at each other briefly before they were lowering their weapons, and the other man relaxed, sighing in relief.

“You alone?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah” the man nodded.

“How long you been alone for?” Daryl asked.

“About a week or so,” Mark said, “I had a group not far from here actually, but I left.”

“What made you leave?” Merle asked.

“Everything was good until this guy rocked up and some of the others started disappearing,” he said, “he had some… opinions… and really rubbed me the wrong way, so I left without telling anyone.”

“What was he sayin’?” Merle prompted.

“He didn’t actually say too much, but he apparently knew one of the guys there; they were surprised and a bit anxious to see each other, then the other guy went missing and that seemed suspicious to me,” Mark said, “he was really soft spoken and gentlemanly on the outside, but I could tell that something evil ran deep underneath, he made me very uneasy.”

“Trust your gut, huh?” Merle asked, chuckling softly, “I like that.”

“Yeah, most of the time,” the other man laughed, agreeing, “I was a prison psychologist back in the old world and I’ve seen just about every type of person there is.”

The brothers nodded interestedly, glancing at each other and agreeing without words that if Mark wanted to join them at the prison, they’d welcome him in. They and the others had spoken at length about helping people that they found outside the prison and asking them to join the group.

“We’re actually not too far from here, either,” Merle said, “if you’d like to join our group, you’re more than welcome, safety in numbers n’all that.”

Mark paused for a moment, thinking hard.

“Our group has been together for over a year now,” Merle said reassuringly, “n’we recently took in a bunch more people because their leader went nuts and abandoned them.”

“Merle n’I go huntin’ two or three times a week, n’we have a garden goin’,” Daryl continued, “y’can always find us if you change your mind, n’you’re always free to leave if you don’t like it.”

Mark thought for a few moments before coming to a decision.

“I’ll come with you” he said.

The brothers smiled, Merle reaching out to pat Mark’s shoulder friendlily, and Mark smiled in return.

“Sorry I scared your deer off” Mark said.

“Ain’t nothin’,” Merle said with a shrug and a smile, “we can track it back down.”

They resumed their hunt, now with Mark in tow, who watched interestedly as they tracked the deer they’d been following down again, finding it by a stream this time, drinking. Daryl lined a shot up again and took it, hitting the deer in the heart, and they walked over to it, inspecting the kill and taking a few moments to celebrate before the brothers were lifting the deer between them and they were making their way back towards where they’d hidden the Jeep.

“So, tell us more about the guy who got you scared” Merle said conversationally after five minutes of walking.

“Well he seemed really nice, everyone pretty much took to him immediately,” Mark said, “dark hair, really tall. Soft spoken, charming, even temper, real gentlemanly, y’know? He just rubbed me the wrong way, he gave off some real psychopath vibes.”

Merle frowned at Mark’s description before his heart skipped a beat as a face came to mind, and he stopped abruptly, nearly wrenching Daryl over and sending the deer to the floor. Daryl gave an indignant grunt and frowned at Merle, preparing to yell at him before he realised that Merle’s face had gone pale, and he felt his own stomach drop worriedly.

“Was he wearing an eyepatch?” Merle asked, trepidation rising.

“Yeah, his name’s Phillip,” Mark confirmed, frowning, “he’s missing his right eye.”

The brothers tensed and looked at each other, meeting each other’s eyes worriedly, dread settling in their stomachs; the Governor was still alive and had found new followers from the sounds of things, and they were apparently set up not too far from the prison.

“I take it you know him?” Mark ventured cautiously.

“Yeah, we know him…” Merle said, “he went by ‘the Governor.’”

“Does he know where you live?” Mark asked cautiously, brow creased.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, “he’s attacked us before.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Mark said, “but, they have some big guns, and a tank.”

“A _tank_?” Merle asked, eyeing Mark seriously.

Mark nodded grimly and Merle whipped around to look at his brother, taking a shaky, nervous breath in.

“We need to get back and warn the others, right now,” Merle said, “c’mon, let’s go.”

Daryl nodded and the brothers started to move again, upping their pace almost to a run, Mark following them closely.

“So, what’s he like?” the other man asked.

“He’s a complete psychopath,” Daryl said, “kept his daughter in a cage after she turned, went berserk when one of ours discovered her and put her out of her misery.”

“He kept people locked up n’interrogated ‘em. Cut their heads off n’kept them in these giant fish tanks in his office,” Merle added, “captured us and pitted Daryl and I against each other, wanted to make us fight to the death.”

Mark cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, frowning at the new information that the brothers were telling him.

“He demanded we hand over the person who killed his daughter,” Merle said, “shot me point blank in the chest and left me for dead.”

“He rallied a bunch of his people to attack us,” Daryl said, “killed all of them for running away and refusing to attack us again. He abandoned the rest of them, then disappeared.”

“Christ…” Mark muttered.

They reached the Jeep and the brothers set the deer in the trailer before they were climbing inside, Daryl into the driver’s seat and Merle into the trailer with the deer, and Mark stood off to the side, outside the Jeep, eyeing them uncertainly.

“Y’gettin’ in?” Merle asked, gesturing at the passenger side door, brow creased in the centre.

Mark hesitated for a moment, then smiled at them before he was climbing into the passenger seat, holding on for dear life as Daryl sped off, and Merle laughed at his expression.

\--

They returned to the prison in record time, speeding through the gate and screeching up to the courtyard before bolting into the cellblock. The others were alarmed at their sudden return, immediately on edge upon seeing their worried faces, and the brothers took a few moments to calm their breaths before they were speaking.

“We need to get everyone together,” Daryl said, panting a little, “got some news.”

The others nodded, darting off to find everyone else and bring them back inside, and very quickly everyone was gathered in the common area, sitting at the lunch tables and looking to the Dixons to hear what they had to say.

“Ain’t an easy way to say this,” Merle said, deciding to rip the band aid off and get it over with, “the Governor’s still about. He’s in a camp not far from here. Mark here saw ‘im.”

Nervous murmurs travelled throughout the group as the news sunk in.

“I knew it,” Michonne said lowly in her calm, collected voice, and she stepped forward, “where’s he hiding?”

“No ‘chon, we have to go. He knows we’re here n’it’s only a matter of time before he decides to come here and kill us,” Merle said, looking at her apologetically; she’d wanted revenge for a long time, “maybe we can come back later when we’re safe. Find his camp and get eyes on him, see if he’s planning anything.”

She softened at the nickname and he smiled at her before turning his attention to the others again as Daryl continued.

“He’s found another group, n’you know how charming he can be,” Daryl said, “he’ll have ‘em wrapped around his finger ‘fore we know it, n’then he’ll be at our door with an army.”

“They have automatic weapons and a tank, and he’s going to want revenge, no doubt about it,” Merle said, “we can’t risk staying and fighting, we need to leave. Right now.”

The others looked around at each other, lost. The prison wasn’t much of a home, but they’d made it a home as best they could, and they felt safe here, and now they were going to have to leave and live on the road again.

“Is this true?” Rick asked, turning his attention to Mark.

“Yeah, I left their group because I didn’t like the things that were happening,” Mark said, “I snuck out in the night a few days ago and made a break for it.”

“How long were you there for?” Carol asked, “what made you leave?”

“I was there for about a month before he rocked up,” he said, “we were led by a guy named Caesar for a while. They seemed to know each other.”

“Caesar was part of his army, one of the higher ups,” Merle explained, “maybe they got split up. Maybe Caesar dipped after they attacked us and he killed everyone in their group.”

“I’m not sure, but they seemed tense around each other,” Mark said, “and Caesar went missing really suddenly just before I left. _Really_ suddenly. Maybe he had the same idea as I did.”

The brothers glanced at each other, agreeing wordlessly that Caesar had likely never had the chance to leave and was probably either rotting somewhere or had been made into walker food.

“Well, what are we going to do?” Carol asked, “we can’t stay here, but we have nowhere to go.”

“Merle n’I found a farm a couple’a days ago,” Daryl said, “s’a fair while away, like a day and a half’s drive, but it should hold all of us.”

“There’s plenty of room in the barn, we can set up rooms in there,” Merle said, “maybe build some more when we’re settled in.”

“It’s pretty well hidden, lots of trees and winding roads” Daryl continued, “we can set up a perimeter, build more fences.”

“S’got good surrounding land for huntin’,” Merle added, “n’we found some chickens, so we can have eggs and meat.”

“We can at least use it as a safe haven for now,” Daryl said, “maybe we can come back here one day if everything blows over.”

Everyone looked around at each other and started talking amongst themselves, filling the common room with an excited din as they mulled it over, before they finally seemed to come to an agreement as a group almost ten minutes later.

“Alright, it’s settled then, we’re relocating. Everyone get your things and pack up,” Rick said, “Maggie, Glenn, keep watch in the watchtower and let us know if you see anything. We’ll pack your things for you.”

The two nodded and ran off to climb up to the watchtower, and there was a flurry of movement as everyone sprung into action, going to their cells and collecting all of their belongings. The brothers packed their things, putting them on Merle’s bike, before they were gathering the fuel and water they’d collected, putting them in the trailer with the deer before helping to load other people’s belongings into it as well. They made their way to their garden with Carol, Beth and Carl, carefully uprooting what they had growing and making sure they took their unplanted seeds as well, planning on starting another garden at the farm.

A few hours later they were all packed, and piled into their cars and the bus before they set off, the brothers leading the charge on Merle’s bike, Daryl driving and Merle sitting behind him, his arms wrapped around Daryl’s waist and his forehead pressed to his shoulder.


	20. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end! It's short and sweet, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless.   
> Huge thanks to everyone who has stuck through this and enjoyed it, thanks for your support.  
> Stay safe, everyone <3

They arrived at the farm a day and a half later in the early hours of the morning, making their way up the series of winding roads and finally pulling up to the farmhouse. Everyone climbed out of and off of their vehicles, stretching and groaning collectively; it’d been a long, hard drive, and they were exhausted. They hadn’t taken many breaks to stop, had powered through the drive and only paused for toilet breaks and to swap drivers when fatigue hit them.

They still had the rest of the day ahead of them, so everyone filtered over to the barn to take a look at their new accommodations. It’d be a tight fit, but it was enclosed, secure, and warm, so there wasn’t much complaint, and they quickly divided the space up, plotting rooms and assigning spaces. They built rudimentary partitions out of wood and blankets, segmenting the barn into sections before settling in and making the spaces their own.

The Dixon brothers were quick to claim the loft, hoisting themselves up the ladder and settling into the space quickly, filling it with the few possessions they owned and setting up a bed for themselves. The others were surprised that they didn’t want to stay in the house, and asked them a few times whether they’d rather one of the rooms upstairs, saying that they deserved it after everything they’d done, but they declined, more than happy with what they’d chosen.

Once settled in, they all set to determining how they’d be keeping the farm safe, sitting around in a large group outside the barn to discuss their options for a few hours. They decided that they’d organise patrols like they’d had at the prison, and planned a circuit for people to follow, deciding to discuss a roster later on in the day when everyone was rested, fed and refreshed. They discussed constructing additional fences and digging a trench around the perimeter, building a watchtower atop one of the existing structures, and they were confident they’d be able to keep themselves safe.

\--

A few days passed quickly, and they found themselves settling into their new home easier than they’d thought they would. They set to building a watchtower off the side of the house, deciding that since it was more central to the property than the barn it’d make a better vantage point. The Dixon brothers started digging trenches with a few people from Woodbury, first plotting the trench with stakes and then starting to dig around the property. They planned them to be them deep and wide, leaving only two places for vehicles to leave the property over the trench, and flanked each entry point with spikes, intending to build walls and gates in the near future.

They were on their second day of digging and were making good progress, chatting away as they dug, when they heard an explosion in the distance, in the direction of the prison, followed by two more, and they looked at each other, stunned. They hoisted themselves out of the trench, Daryl helping Merle to climb out, before they were immediately going to find the others.

They were in the farmhouse, looking just as alarmed as they were, and they were quickly discussing a plan before piling into vehicles together, collecting Mark and asking for a general location as to where the Governor’s camp was. They left Woodbury’s citizens with Hershel, Beth and Carl, leaving Tyreese and Sasha in charge alongside the three of them, and started the long drive back towards the prison, armed and ready for a fight.

\--

They reached the prison at midday a day and a half later, and looked around in dismay at what they found; the destruction was immense, the Governor had obviously lost his temper at finding that they were gone and that he couldn’t enact his revenge. The fences had been mown down and the watchtower was but a pile of rubble, reduced to broken glass and chunks of concrete, which littered the courtyard. Cellblock C had been blown open and was exposed to the elements; half of it was destroyed, in a similar state as the watchtower, and they realised that they were very lucky to have found Mark, and that they’d escaped just in time.

They took a look around, splitting into groups of three and listening out for one another in case a fight broke out, but the man in question was nowhere to be seen, and there was no sign that anyone else had taken over the untouched parts of the prison. They met back up at their vehicles, looking around at one another grimly, before they decided to check out the camp that Mark had left, following him as he led them by foot, and they came across the camp a half-hour later. They found that it was deserted as well, with signs of panic and mayhem in the kicked up dirt and splatters of blood that they’d left behind.

They found the tank, abandoned but still functional, and they looked around for signs of life, finding none and sighing collectively as they conceded defeat and started making their way back to their vehicles. Michonne was scowling, unimpressed with the results of their search, and Merle smiled empathetically at her as they walked, reaching out to pat her shoulder and making her soften a little, smiling back ever so slightly.

They all startled, hearing leaves rustling to their left and looked up as a figure burst through the trees. It was him, tired, worn and haggard, and they all stared at each other before they were all drawing their weapons, though the Governor’s eye was only on Merle.

“You’re alive,” the Governor said, “how?!”

“M’tough to kill,” Merle said, taking the safety off his pistol, “n’you sure as hell didn’t stick around to make sure of it, asshole.”

He didn’t hesitate, firing a round at the man’s gun hand and hitting him in the wrist, making him drop his pistol and cry out in pain, making everyone but Michonne gasp a little at the suddenness of it. She stepped forward, her katana raised, and the Governor looked up, hate in his gaze flickering between Merle and Michonne.

“You cost me everything,” he growled, “everything!”

“Shut up” Michonne said tightly, and she swung her katana in one practised movement, killing the Governor and ensuring he wouldn’t turn.

It happened so quickly, and without much ado, seemingly unremarkable after everything they’d suffered at his hands, but a huge weight was finally lifted from their shoulders; months and months of worry melting from them, and they took a quiet moment to reflect before they were leaving in silence. Merle clapped Michonne on the shoulder, squeezing it gently, and the two shared a smile before Daryl looped his elbow with his brother’s, drawing him close as they walked.

When they reached the farm it was late in the evening, and they parked their vehicles close to the barn before they were joining the others for dinner. They told their story of how they’d stumbled across the Governor by chance, abandoned by the people he’d rallied against them, and no-one shed a tear to learn of the madman’s death.

The brothers were quick to retire after they’d eaten, giving thanks to the people who’d cooked before they were making their way to the barn and climbing up to their loft. They read together for a while in the light of a gas lamp, Merle propped against his brother’s chest, Daryl holding the book open so both of them could read, flipping the pages once they were both finished.

Eventually they became tired, three days of driving and hours of walking finally catching up to them, and they curled up on their little cot in the loft in the barn together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and fell asleep, secure in the fact that they, and all of the people they cared about, were safe.

\--

A month passed by in a blur, and they passed the time by making the farm more liveable, finishing the trench and building fences around the inside of the border they’d made, building a water collector to catch rainwater, and starting on another building so that they could expand their accommodations and give everyone a larger living space.

They started to breed the chickens, and enjoyed the reintroduction of eggs into their diet, and were overjoyed when they found a few cows in a nearby field, hungry and malnourished, but alive, and they started to nurse them back to health, planning on using them for meat, milk and butter once they were healthy again.

The Dixon brothers continued to hunt, setting off into the world on foot and bringing back fresh meat once or twice a week, and they’d started a garden when they’d first arrived, which was now thriving, providing them with a supply of fresh vegetables, and they all relished frequent, hearty meat and vegetable stews.

Merle started talking to Mark as a therapist, confiding in him and opening up about his childhood experiences for the first time in nearly half a century, and slowly he started to open up even more, started to actively seek people’s friendship and approval. He’d learnt a lot from Daryl and the others during his stint of healing, had learnt a lot about himself and had grown as a person, but speaking to Mark was a whole other level of recovery.

\--

Two months after they’d left the prison, Merle finally decided to give Daryl the toy rocket he’d made. He’d kept working on it in the rare moments when he wasn’t with Daryl, and finally deemed it finished. After dinner they sought solitude away from the others, finding a spot to lie down on the grass and look up at the stars together, their favourite pastime besides hunting.

They lay there for a while, letting their stomachs settle and their weary bodies rest, before Merle shifted so he was against his brother’s side. Daryl smiled, huffing in amusement, drawing him closer with an arm around his shoulder and squeezing him affectionately, and Merle smiled back. His fingers sought the toy rocket he’d made for Daryl, snug in his pocket, and he traced its shape with his fingertips for a moment before speaking.

“I made you somethin’…” Merle said, fidgeting a little.

“Yeah?” Daryl asked, smiling, his eyes lighting up, and Merle smiled in return.

He dug in his pocket, closing his fingers around the little metal toy he’d made, and drew it out, still concealed in his palm. Daryl held his hand out and Merle set it in his palm gently before rolling onto his side to watch his reaction. Daryl eyed him, feeling the little metal item in his palm, before he was looking down and unfurling his hand to look at it. His face lit up, his mouth opening silently, awe crossing his features as it sparked a memory, and Merle grinned at his reaction.

“Mer…” he breathed, overjoyed, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Y’like it?” Merle asked softly, eyes dancing over Daryl’s face.

Merle laughed as Daryl pulled him closer and hugged him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I love it, Mer…” he said, “s’goin’ straight on the shelf...”

Merle smiled broadly, watching him as he inspected it, bringing it closer to his face to better inspect the tiny details Merle had put into it, before he was looking at him once more. Daryl got to his feet before he was offering a hand to help Merle up too, and they made their way to their loft, climbing the ladder before settling into bed.

They talked for a little while longer in the light of their gas lamp, before Daryl was shutting it off, tugging his brother closer and settling him against his side before he was setting his little toy rocket on the shelf they’d made against the wall, where it would stay for many, many years.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)  
> It's been a while, but I'm back!  
> I plan to add a new chapter every fortnight :)


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